


The Truth About Hobbits and Adventures

by StarlightShimmer



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dwarves becoming Hobbits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightShimmer/pseuds/StarlightShimmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gandalf leaves his personal items unattended and the dwarves learn the hazards of touching a wizards things. Thorin and the rest of the dwarves learn the hard way why hobbits do not generally go on adventures when magic goes awry and thirteen dwarves suddenly become thirteen hobbits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lesson One: Do Not Touch Things Belonging to a Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've read the book, but this takes place between the events on the Carrock and the arrival at Beorn's.

If anyone had ever told Bilbo Baggins that he would be traipsing across Middle Earth with thirteen dwarves he would have laughed at them, but yet here he was. And if they had told him that he would call these dwarves friends he would likely have died of said laughter, but yet he did call them friends. Perhaps it had not started out that way. In fact, when it had started he had disliked the loud and raucous dwarves who had invaded his home and eaten every bit of food he had in Bag End. 

While they were still loud and still raucous Bilbo Baggins had come to be considered one of them - despite his propensity for handkerchiefs and his limited fighting skills. 

“Mister Boggins,” Kíli said, sidling his pony beside the hobbit,

“Yes Kíli,” Bilbo asked, glancing at the dark haired dwarf. Kíli almost always rode alongside his older brother Fíli and thus Bilbo had learned to be wary when the brunette came his way. It very rarely ended well for Bilbo while the dwarves tended to get a good laugh at his expense. 

“I had a question about hobbits,” Kíli said innocently.

“What about hobbits,” Bilbo said, perhaps against his better judgement.

“Hobbit courting.”

Bilbo looked at Kíli once more. He said nothing, instead waiting for the dwarf to offer more explanation.

“How do hobbits court each other Mister Boggins?”

Bilbo sighed. He did not know why the young dwarf (by dwarven standards at least) wanted to know, but he could not imagine any harm could come from the conversation. Besides, Ori had nudged his own pony close to theirs and appeared to be listening intently, and several other dwarves seemed to be listening in as well.

“Hobbit courting,” Bilbo began rather awkwardly, “Well now, that’s certainly a topic I have not had to think about in many years. Well, a hobbit courts probably in a similar way to many other races. If a hobbit likes another and wishes to marry them they take the other on walks and the two share meals. Often they will dance at the many parties thrown in the Shire. And when one hobbit allows another to crown them with flowers is when everyone knows it is serious. Often the next step after flower crowns is engagement and marriage. At the wedding the happy couple once more wears flower crowns they craft for the other.” Bilbo broke off. 

“So it’s like dwarves then,” Kíli said suddenly, “any hobbit can marry any other hobbit, not just males and females like those silly men.” 

Bilbo’s breath caught, but he forced himself to answer Kíli in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

“No, Kíli,” Bilbo said trying to mask the sorrow in his voice, “it must be a male and a female. Family is very important to hobbits. When hobbits are young it is acceptable that two hobbits of the same gender may… indulge in each others company. The adult hobbits simply turn a blind eye and the two are referred to as very close friends. But once one becomes an adult it is simply not done. It is not seen as respectable in the Shire.” 

Bilbo had discovered quite early on that he preferred the company of males. That was not to say that he disliked the females, but simply that he was not attracted to them in sufficient amounts to take one as a wife. No, Bilbo Baggins was a lifelong bachelor. He had been born to be a bachelor and he would (possibly soon if Smaug had his way) die a bachelor. 

He did not miss the look Fíli and Kíli shared, but he could not read it. Usually the dwarven princes were easy to read, but not this time.

“But what about your Ones,” Ori piped up.

“Ones,” Bilbo questioned. His brow furrowed as he tried to understand the term.

“Aye laddie,” Balin spoke, clearly the elder dwarf had been listening in on the conversation as well, “Your Ones. Hmm, perhaps another term would be soulmates…?”

“Oh,” Bilbo said sitting up straighter on his pony, “Well of course most hobbits believe in that sort of thing when they are young, and some of the girls believe it for much longer than that. But well, then we grow up and realize that soulmates are the things of fairytales.” Bilbo sighed. “I suppose some hobbits continue to believe in it during their adulthood. I suppose that’s how you get bachelors and spinsters.” 

All around him the dwarves looked to be in pain. Bilbo looked down at his pony avoiding their prying eyes.

Suddenly a throat cleared. 

“Perhaps you would care to hear about dwarven courting then,” Fíli spoke up for the first time.

“No,” Bilbo said firmly. It was not that he was uninterested in dwarves… or their courting habits. In fact there was one particular dwarf who interested him greatly. He glanced towards the head of the Company where Thorin Oakenshield, the dwarf king, rode alongside Gandalf. He knew he needed to stop thinking of the dwarf in that way. It was not respectable and it certainly was not proper. Besides, despite the fact that Thorin was no longer treating him with contempt after the hug on the Carrock, he knew his feelings would never be reciprocated.

“Are you sure you would not care to hear Mister Boggins,” Kíli said, brow furrowed in a way that made Bilbo distinctly uncomfortable.

“I said no,” Bilbo said, “and I meant it.”

“But,” shy Ori spoke up quietly, “I saw all those books you had in the Shire…”

“An academic exercise,” Balin suggested, “You had books a plenty on elves laddie, but few books are written on dwarves.”

“Dwarves are a secretive people,” Bilbo said, “They do not share their secrets freely or easily.”

“Aye,” Dwalin joined in agreeing.

Bilbo sighed. He had a feeling he would not be getting out of this.

“Fine,” Bilbo said his tone huffier than he would have liked, “Tell me about dwarven courting, since you all seem so keen to do so.”

“Well,” Kíli began, “dwarves only love once. The other is called our One because they are the only one for us.”

“And when a dwarf finds his or her One, let’s just says his to make it simple,” Fíli added, “So when a dwarf finds his One he must prove himself by showing he can protect and support his One.”

“There is gift giving,” Kíli added.

“But not just gift giving for gift givings sake,” Ori spoke up, “but gifts that have meaning and are often made by the dwarf himself.”

“But protecting,” Kíli pointed out, “Proving that the life of your One is more important to you than anything, including your own life is… important.”

“That sounds like a recipe for disaster,” Bilbo remarked.

“Nah laddie,” Balin spoke up, “The boys aren’t explaining it right. It is not imperative to save your One from danger because if that were the case there would be a lot of dwarves trying to put their Ones in danger to save them.” The dwarves - save Thorin - all chucked at this image.

“No, that wouldn’t work,” Bofur spoke up for the first time, “it’s the thought of the action.”

“When I met me wife,” Gloin started and everyone (including Thorin, Gandalf, and Bilbo) groaned.

“You can tell Mister Boggins about your wife later Gloin,” Kíli said, “if, and only if, he asks.”

Gloin looked disappointed at this, but hushed regardless.

“And braids,” Ori said breaking the silence, “Braids are very important. And a bead crafted by the dwarves own hands. It’s very romantic.”

“We’ll be stopping here,” Thorin shouted gruffly, breaking up the conversation of his Company, “Fíli, Kíli, go collect firewood. Everyone else start making up camp.”

“But we’re telling Mister Boggins about,” Kíli started.

“Go,” Thorin commanded. The two brothers huffed, but went off on their own regardless.

*

“Do you think he’s going to come back soon,” Bilbo said, glancing towards Gandalf’s pack.

“The Wizard,” Balin questioned, “Aye, I suppose so. He always does laddie. And he wouldn’t have left his stuff here if he weren’t planning on it.” Bilbo nodded, but he truly did wish Gandalf was still there. He was seated between Balin and Ori. Fortunately the discussion of dwarven courtship had not been brought up again though Bilbo noticed both Fíli and Kíli giving him odd looks and he knew it was only a matter of time. 

Bilbo’s stomach rumbled. Bombur had already served their dinner, but Bilbo’s stomach was just not adjusting to the road rationing of dwarves. He thought of the Shire and the typical seven meals a day of hobbits with regret. He would like to think they would eat in Erebor, but even barring death by dragon it seemed likely the food in the dwarven kingdom would no longer be edible. 

“It’s starting to rain,” Dwarlin noted.

“Oh, well spotted Mister Dwalin,” Kíli mocked the larger dwarf. 

“Ori, go bring in Gandalf’s things out of the rain,” Thorin commanded.

The smaller dwarf made his way into the lightly sprinkling rain. The shelter they had found was in a small cave. They had made sure to check the solidity of the floor before bunkering down after what had happened last time. They certainly did not want to be falling into another settlement of goblins. While they had been worried about sleeping in a cave once more it was only practical as Oin had been suspecting rain. 

Ori let out a shriek.

“Oh, come on Ori,” Kíli yelled, “it can’t be that heavy.”

A flash of light unlike any Bilbo had ever seen took over the cave causing Bilbo to go temporarily blind. When he got his vision back however he almost wished he had not. 

“You’ve gone a bit soft brother,” Kíli mocked looking at his brother. 

“You’re one to talk,” Fíli pointed out with a chuckle. 

Bilbo gaped at them, his mouth moving like a fish. 

Exclamations of ‘my beard’ echoed through the small cave. Before Bilbo Baggins he no longer had thirteen dwarves, but thirteen hobbits.


	2. Lesson Two: Hobbits are Softer than Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company deals (and not well) with the immediate aftermath of becoming hobbits.

Bilbo looked on the dwarves - no, hobbits - before him trying to pick out who each of them was. While they were all rather large hobbits, there was no denying that they were definitely hobbits. Their faces were clean shaven, their beards nowhere to be seen. Additionally, the hair on their heads was no longer straight and braided, but short and curly like Bilbo’s own. Their clothes, fortunately had changed with them allowing Bilbo a fairly easy way to tell them from each other.  

Bilbo looked over the entire company - his eyes stopping for just a moment too long on their fearless leader. Thorin’s piercing blue eyes remained, but they were now set in a rounder face, his once long dark hair now a riot of black curls upon his head. Even as a hobbit Thorin looked majestic, as a king should. Though, of course, hobbits did not have kings. He was also, surprisingly, the only ex-dwarf who had not spoken since as all the other members of the company had not stopped talking. 

“Silence,” Thorin said loudly. Bilbo was pleased to see that his voice had not been affected by the change though it was odd to hear the deep rumbling voice from a soft hobbit body.  

Ori finally made his way back to the middle of the cave clutching Gandalf’s things in his arms. He dropped them on the ground and Bilbo watched as everyone in the cave stepped back from where it sat.  

“What’s happened to us,” Ori exclaimed pulling at a curl of hair and watching it spring back. 

“Well,” Bilbo spoke up quietly for the first time since the incident, “it appears you’ve all been turned into… well, hobbits.” Despite the fact that to Bilbo it had been clear, the rest of the company immediately started arguing amongst themselves loudly. 

“I’m going to kill the wizard,” the unmistakable voice of Dwalin growled. Bilbo looked over to where the largest hobbit was standing and noted that Dwalin still suffered from a lack of hair and the tattoos on his scalp remained. It was rare that a hobbit would lose their hair and even then it only happened to hobbits when they were very old. Bilbo supposed that for hobbits though, the dwarves were all very old indeed. He was hunched over, the weapons strapped to the once muscular dwarf were simply too heavy for the smaller hobbit frame.  

“Kíli, what are you doing,” Thorin roared. Kíli was sitting on the ground of the cave and taking off his shoes revealing large and hairy hobbit feet. The curls on Kíli’s feet matched the dark brown curls on his head and he looked up at the rest of the Company with a roguish grin.  

“Taking off my shoes of course,” Kíli answered, “Hobbits don’t wear shoes and now I know why. They really are uncomfortable.” This started a murmuring amongst the newly minted hobbits. Within moments a few of the other members of the Company followed suit - Fíli of course, but also Ori, Nori, Bofur, Bombur, and much to Bilbo’s surprise, Balin. Thorin looked on this disapprovingly, but said nothing.  

“Maybe you should put some of your weapons down,” Bilbo suggested as Dwalin grumbled and shifted his weight, clearly trying to get comfortable in the new body, “They must be heavy.” 

“I am a warrior, hobbit,” Dwalin said sharply with a scowl, “You know what they call a warrior without weapons? Dead.” 

Bilbo considered trying again, but upon seeing the displeasure upon Dwalin’s face thought better of it. He wanted to point out that he was no longer the only hobbit in the Company and that he would be just as dead weighed down by weapons he could not lift, but the hobbit Dwalin was still bigger, stronger, and better with weapons than he was and so he kept his mouth shut.  

Bilbo sighed.  

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it until Gandalf comes back,” Balin said sagely, “We might as well settle in for the night.” 

“I’ll take first watch,” Dwalin insisted. 

Around the cave the hobbits began to settle into their bedrolls. However, they did not settle. The Company seemed restless this night if the noises of shuffling and grumbling were anything to go by. 

“Has the ground always been this hard,” Kíli was the first to openly complain. 

 “Nah,” Bofur said, “and this ground should not be this uncomfortable.” There were murmurs of complaint throughout the cave - the only ones abstaining being Bilbo and Thorin. 

 “I hope Gandalf comes back soon,” Bilbo murmured quietly, but not quietly enough.

 “You’re not the one who has been turned into a hobbit,” Dwalin growled from his place watching from the edge of the cave. 

 Bilbo was silent. He had no idea what he could possibly say to that. He had not been turned into a hobbit, no, but he was a hobbit and clearly to the Company that was the worst possible thing one could be.

 “Of course he hasn’t,” Ori spoke up, “he _is_ a hobbit. And there’s nothing wrong with being a hobbit.” Bilbo was surprised it was little Ori speaking up for him, but he appreciated the gesture. 

“Right,” Dwalin muttered. 

“That means sorry Mister Boggins,” Kíli said, “it’s probably as close as you’ll ever get with Dwalin.” There was laughter at that.  

“Hobbits,” Bilbo spoke up after a few more moments of shuffling and grumbling, “are softer than dwarves. Our bodies are not accustomed to sleeping on hard ground like this. That’s why you all are uncomfortable.” He rolled over so he was no longer looking in the direction of any member of the Company. The grumbling continued, but Bilbo ignored it. He may not have been comfortable, but he hoped to at least get some sleep this night. He could only hope that Gandalf would return in the morning. 

* 

He was, as usual, not to have his wish. Gandalf remained firmly gone whilst Bombur and Bilbo made breakfast for the Company.  

Several of the hobbits were grumbling about being sore after sleeping on the hard ground - and those who were not complaining about that were grumbling about the lack of sleep. He looked to where Thorin stood, smaller, but still larger than Bilbo in his newly acquired hobbit frame.  

“Thorin,” Bilbo said quietly when he approached the king.  

“Burglar,” Thorin greeted.  

“Do we ride out today,” Bilbo asked the king conversationally.  

“That was the original plan,” the king admitted, “but with the wizard still gone it is possible we may have to hold off.” Thorin glanced warily at the wizards things which still sat on the floor of the cave where Ori had dropped them the night before. 

 “We’ve moved without Gandalf before,” Bilbo reminded Thorin.  

“Yes, but things are different this time,” Thorin said glancing around at the Company.  

“But Durin’s Day,” Bilbo started. 

“I am aware of that Mr. Baggins,” Thorin said darkly, “but I hardly think we can expect to retake Erebor with this band of hobbits.” Thorin said the last loudly, and the entire Company stared. 

Bilbo blushed.  

“I’ll take Gandalf’s things,” Bilbo muttered, “We need to keep on schedule or Gandalf won’t be able to find us. You know, because we won’t be where he expects us to be..” Bilbo drifted off, the tips of his ears burning hotly with embarrassment.  

“You said it yourself,” Thorin said more softly this time, though still loudly enough for the members of the Company to hear,  “Hobbits are soft. We have a hard enough journey ahead of us without dealing with softness.” 

Bilbo silently packed up his pony adding Gandalf’s things to his own. Hobbits may be soft, but no one, not even Thorin Oakenshield, could complain that he was not carrying his own weight. 


	3. Lesson Three: Hobbits Eat Seven Meals a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new hobbits discover some differences in the eating habits between dwarves and hobbits.

The Company headed out in silence. Thorin, alone at the head of the Company, and Bilbo alone at the back. Many of the hobbits had assured him that it was nothing personal that he was riding alone and Bilbo had certainly noticed the skittish looks they had all given Gandalf’s things firmly secured to his pony. 

If the situation were not so unpleasant Bilbo would have been laughing. These big strong dwarves were afraid of something for once. Granted, they were no longer dwarves, but that did not change the situation in the least - they were afraid of a pack. 

“Doing alright Bilbo,” Fíli called back from where he rode side by side with Kíli. 

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said. Dwalin was riding ahead of him - he had been ordered to do so by Thorin - and grunting with the strain of the weapons securely on his person. If Bilbo was worried about anyone it would be the warrior. Out of all of the Company he seemed to be the one taking the transformation hardest. 

“I’m not,” Nori grumbled. Fortunately no one appeared to hear him outside of Bilbo, or if they did they ignored it. 

“And you’re sure the wizard is going to be able to find us,” Bilbo heard Ori asking his brother Dori. 

“He’s a wizard,” Dori answered, “it will be fine.”

“Mister Boggins,” Kíli’s familiar voice said. At times since they had left Bilbo had wished for someone to speak to him, but now that it was Kíli he was not so sure.

“Kíli.”

“We never did finish our talk about dwarven courting,” Kíli said with a mischievous smile.

“Well it’s not like he needs to know about that now,” Nori said. 

“I didn’t need to know about it to begin with Master Nori,” Bilbo said stiffly. Nori said nothing, but gave him a look that Bilbo could only classify as condescending. 

“I need to talk about something,” Kíli complained, “anything so that I don’t think about how hungry I am.”

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one,” Nori said. 

“You got the same amount of food for breakfast you had yesterday,” Bombur said sounding offended.

“But aren’t you hungry Bom,” Bofur said, “I know I am.”

“Well that’s a silly question,” Kíli said with a snicker, “Bombur’s always hungry. Look at him!”

Bombur growled and said nothing.

“Yes, I’m hungry,” Bombur admitted, clearly unhappy. 

“Stop talking about it,” Dwalin said, “We get it. Yer hungry. We’re all hungry.”

“Except Uncle,” Fíli said, “he’s not said anything.”

“Well he’s made of stone,” Kíli groaned.

“Kíli,” Bilbo said warningly. 

“Well, he was mean to you this morning,” Ori spoke up. Suddenly the entire Company was arguing. Hunger, Bilbo knew, could do that to a person. 

“What in Middle Earth is happening here,” a familiar voice said, startling the hobbits. Bilbo grinned. He had never been so happy to see Gandalf in his entire life.

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said, hurrying his pony towards the wizard. 

“You tell us,” Dwalin growled.

“Well, you seem to be hobbits Mister Dwalin,” Gandalf said, his mouth quirking into a smile.

“I didn’t mean to,” Ori said, “Thorin just told me to bring your stuff out of the rain and suddenly hobbits.”

“Turn us back,” Thorin insisted.

“Well Master Oakenshield,” Gandalf said slowly, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The Company broke into loud arguments once more.

“Quiet,” Thorin said and the hobbits fell silent, “What do you mean you can’t?”

“From the sounds of it Ori activated a type of magic that will wear off on its own,” Gandalf said, “I can’t change you back Thorin Oakenshield, only time can.” 

Thorin did not look pleased, none of the Company did, but they were silent. Bilbo looked from face to face - from the pure anger of Dwalin to the slight smile of Ori.

“Will we be dwarves again before we reach Erebor,” Thorin asked.

Gandalf shrugged. “I cannot tell you that Thorin,” the wizard said, “alas my gift for prophecy is rather limited.”

“Well we appear to be hobbits for the time being,” Balin said.

“Very hungry hobbits,” Nori complained loudly.

“Perhaps we should stop for lunch Uncle,” Fíli suggested. For the first time since coming on this quest Bilbo thought that Thorin’s nephew sounded worried about making his opinion known. 

“We only just had breakfast,” Thorin said, “We cannot be stopping every time someone is hungry.”

“Ah,” Gandalf said thoughtfully, “You may do well to heed the advice of your nephew Thorin Oakenshield.”

“What do you know, wizard,” Thorin said darkly. 

“Different races have different customs and needs,” Gandalf said thoughtfully, cryptically. 

“What do you mean by that,” Kíli asked suddenly. Bilbo chuckled for the first time since that morning.

“I mean,” Gandalf said with a small smile at Bilbo, “That it is not unusual that you all are hungry as you are now hobbits.”

“What do hobbits have to do with anything,” Dwalin growled.

“Hobbits,” Gandalf started, “eat seven meals a day.”

The entire Company was gasping and murmuring. 

“But, they’re so small,” Ori squeaked, “Where do they keep it all?”

“The wizard must be lying,” Fíli insisted.

“I’m certain Mister Baggins would have mentioned if we had been starving him,” Balin pointed out.

“Of course you haven’t been starving me,” Bilbo said, but he was not sure it was quite true. He had certainly been very hungry for the entirety of the quest and he had lost a substantial amount of weight. 

“See, I told you it wasn’t true,” Fíli said, “There is no way hobbits eat that much.”

“He did not disagree on the eating habits of hobbits,” Gandalf reminded them, “but just with the idea that you were starving him. Hobbits eat substantial amounts more than dwarves and that is a fact.”

“Does the wizard speak the truth,” Balin questioned and suddenly all eyes were on Bilbo. He could feel the tips of his ears turning red.

“Well, yes,” Bilbo said, “In the Shire we do have seven meals a day.”

“Then we have been starving you,” Thorin said sounding horrified. 

“No, no of course not,” Bilbo said, but his voice lacked the conviction of earlier, “Let’s just have elevenses. I think that’s about the time of day it would be.”

“Elevenses,” Ori asked curiously. 

“Why doesn’t Bilbo tell you all about hobbit meals over food,” Gandalf suggested.

*

Bilbo was flustered. It was not an uncommon feeling for him, particularly since the beginning of the journey, but he was unused to the eyes of thirteen hobbits and one wizard upon him. The sorrow and apology in each set of eyes was almost unbearable. 

“So, tell us about hobbit meals Mister Boggins,” Kíli said breaking the awkward silence. 

“Well, as I said, in the Shire we eat seven meals a day,” Bilbo began haltingly, “There’s Breakfast, Second Breakfast, Elevenses, Luncheon, Tea, Dinner, and Supper.” Gandalf appeared to be amused while the various hobbits were staring at her with expressions ranging from wonder to horror. 

“Is that why we’re all hungry,” Dori questioned Gandalf.

“It seems as good a guess as any Master Dori,” Gandalf answered, “You are hobbits and thus you have the systems and needs of a hobbit and that includes more food.”

“Wait, so does this mean you’ve been that hungry this whole time,” Bofur exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Bilbo shrugged. “We are on a long journey. I read the contract, it is not as if I went on this adventure expecting all the comforts of Bag End.”

“All the comforts of home no lad,” Balin said carefully, “but we did not intend to allow you to starve.”

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said embarrassed by the attention of the Company. 

“You most certainly are not fine burglar,” Thorin spoke up, his voice low and serious, “Oin had mentioned he thought you looked slimmer, but I ignored his worry. Myself and my Company owe you our gravest apologies. I can only hope you will accept them.”

“Oh there is no need for that,” Bilbo murmured, “but if you insist on apologizing than I suppose it is accepted.”

“We will need more food,” Kíli pointed out, “if we are to continue to eat like hobbits. And I don’t want to be hungry like that again,” There were mutterings of agreement.

“Ah, well then it is quite fortunate that I have a friend nearby,” Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eye that Bilbo did not trust, “We will be able to rest and I am sure he will be happy to provide you with all you need before the next leg of our journey.” 

None of the Company looked particularly trusting of this arrangement, but they all knew they had very little choice.


	4. Lesson Four: Hobbits are NOT Bunnies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company meets Beorn.

“So, what is your friend like, Gandalf?”

Bilbo posed this question to the wizard as they rode side by side. Bilbo was pleased to have someone to ride with once more even if that someone was the whole reason he was in this mess in the first place. 

“Beorn,” Gandalf said thoughtfully, “I don’t know that I can quite explain Beorn. I will warn all of you now that once we enter his land you are not harm anything. Beorn is quite protective of anything that lives on his land. While you stay with him that will include you so you can feel assured of your safety.”

The other hobbits were clearly listening to their conversation. 

Bilbo looked down at his sword with a sigh before glancing around at the members of the Company. 

“Are we already on his land Gandalf,” he asked the wizard. Though he would be loathe to say so he certainly hoped they were. Safety, especially with the current state of the Company, seemed ideal. Despite Dwalin’s continued grumblings that he was a warrior Bilbo was unsure how capable any of the hobbits would be with their dwarven weapons. He had considered leaving his sword with Dwalin or Thorin knowing that they would be their best bet if something happened, but he feared their reaction. Not to mention he had started to feel safe with his sword by his side and the thought of being parted from it in the wild made him uneasy. He may not have been the most talented with it, but he had protected himself and, more importantly, Thorin, when he needed to.

“We are indeed my dear Bilbo,” Gandalf answered, “We should, in fact, be within sight of his home soon.”

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. He had no doubt then next few days would be full of complaints from the new hobbits, but that was easy enough to ignore.

“I think we should break for, um, what was the next meal Mister Boggins,” Kíli shouted.

“Tea,” Bilbo answered the hobbit amiably. While the change from being surrounded by dwarves into being surrounded by hobbits had been odd there were certainly some members of the Company whom he had grown used to as hobbits sooner than others and Kíli was one of them (as was his brother). 

“Yes, let’s break for tea,” Kíli said.

“Do we even have any food left,” Nori asked, “Because if we do I’m eating it.”

“No, we don’t,” Bombur answered.

“Well I’m sure we can find something to eat, I’ve still got my bow,” Kíli reminded them. 

“What part of no harming anything on this land did you not understand Kíli,” Gandalf reminded the hobbit gently, “No fear however, we are almost there.”

Suddenly a scream was heard and Ori came running back, his trousers around his ankles. 

“There’s a bear,” he yelled pulling his pants up as he yelled, “Chasing me.”

And indeed, within a few moments a bear came running into the clearing they and their ponies were in. 

“Ah, Beorn,” Gandalf said calmly as the hobbits around him all drew their weapons. The hobbits were grunting with the strength needed to keep their weapons aloft as well as stay firmly mounted on their ponies - the exceptions being Bilbo with his hobbits sized sword, Ori with his slingshot and Kíli, while his bow may have been rather large for the smaller hobbit frame, seemed to be doing a good job of it as well. 

Before their eyes the bear became, well, a bear of a man. Massive and without a doubt intimidating.

“Gandalf, I thought you said you were bringing dwarves onto my land, not these little bunnies,” the man said, mirth in his eyes, “Put your weapons away little bunnies. You can’t even hold them.” 

Bilbo was glad someone had said it for he was sure he would never have had the nerve. However, he had bigger problems at hand such as defending his entire race.

“I am not a rabbit,” Bilbo said defensively. Dealing with the Company he had gotten quite used to sticking up for himself against those who were bigger than him - although Beorn was much bigger than even the largest of his dwarven companions. “I am a hobbit from the Shire and I demand to be treated with the respect I deserve.”

“Things have changed Beorn,” Gandalf, “I now bring you a Company of hobbits. I trust you will still be willing to offer them your protection for a time.”

“Of course,” Beorn said pulling Bilbo off his pony and putting him on his shoulders, “How could I let these sweet little bunnies go out into danger.”

“Not a bunny,” Bilbo squeaked from his new place on Beorn’s shoulders, “Please don’t drop me.”

“Don’t you worry little bunny,” Beorn growled as they began to move, “I’l take good care of you and all your little friends.” 

Bilbo twisted and looked at Gandalf who seemed to be barely holding in his mirth. Clearly the wizard had expected this, or at least something like it, and intended to enjoy every moment of it.”

The hobbits were looking at each other and finally Bilbo heard Thorin speak.

“We don’t seem to have many choices,” the king said firmly, “Follow our burglar.”

*

“I am not a rabbit Gandalf,” Bilbo said that evening when the Company was firmly at home in Beorn’s house. The skin changer had gone off to patrol his lands assuring the members of the Company that they were perfectly safe in his home. 

“I am aware of that Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said before taking a puff of his pipe. 

“Well can you tell your friend that,” Bilbo exclaimed, “I dislike it, but I’m pretty sure if he calls anyone else that they’re going to try and fight him. And there is no way that will end well.”

“He is correct, Wizard,” the voice of Thorin Oakenshield rumbled through the air. Bilbo had thought he and Gandalf had been alone and was relieved he had not said anything worse where Thorin could hear him. 

“Alas Thorin, Beorn is a friend, but not someone I control,” Gandalf admitted, “Much like yourself in that way in fact.” Smoke rings drifted lazily through the air as Gandalf looked at them. “I can no more stop him from referring to you as bunnies as I can change you back into dwarves.”

“You certainly haven’t been much help lately,” Thorin growled stalking into the night.

“You really shouldn’t go out there Thorin,” Bilbo cried chasing after the king, “Beorn said to stay close to the house.”

It was strange really catching up to Thorin this quickly. The hobbit had barely gotten out of the sight of Gandalf before Bilbo caught up to him.

“Stay out of this halfling.”

“I know Gandalf seems not to be helping us right now,” Bilbo said, ignoring the kings command, “but he got us to safety. Beorn may not be exactly what you were expecting. I don’t like being called a bunny either, but he is giving us food and shelter - that’s more than we had before.”

“How do you deal with this burglar,” Thorin asked turning to face him. At one time Bilbo would have been intimidated by this, but not now. Now Thorin just looked sad and Bilbo wanted nothing more than to make him happy again. 

“Deal with what Thorin,” he asked the king, the two only inches away from each other. 

“Being weak like this,” he thundered, “useless. Beorn was right, I can barely wield Orcrist anymore.”

“I don’t think of myself as weak and certainly not as useless,” Bilbo said. He unsheathed his sword from where it was sheathed at his side. “I know it’s no Orcrist Thorin,” Bilbo said, “but it saved your life once and I want you to have it. I trust no one else with my life that way I trust you.”

“Burglar.”

Bilbo sighed. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin corrected himself, “I am honored that you trust me, but I can’t take-“

Bilbo dropped the sword on the ground and stepped closer to Thorin.

“Yes, you can.” Bilbo pressed his lips to Thorin’s in a chaste kiss before he even realized what he was doing. He felt Thorin’s shoulders stiffen and broke away, horrified.

“I’m sorry Thorin,” he said, but before Thorin could say a word he fled back towards Beorn’s. He may not have been a bunny, but one thing hobbits had in common with the animals was the ability to run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I'm doing the Camp NaNoWriMo challenge so most of my writing energy has been devoted to that.


	5. Lesson Five: Hobbits Have Good Aim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company learns that Bilbo has skills they would not have expected.

Bilbo spent the rest of the evening staying as far away from Thorin as he could. He would not like to say that he was hiding from the king - they were in plain sight of one another after all - but he certainly made sure not to get near to him. He could not believe he had kissed Thorin Oakenshield. It was, quite possibly, the stupidest thing he had ever done. And considering he had agreed to go adventuring with dwarves and likely be killed by a dragon that was really saying something.

And, of course, the other hobbits had noticed that their leader was now in possession of Bilbo’s little sword, as well as Orcrist. Fortunately, none of the others had been willing to ask the king about it, content to whisper amongst themselves on what it could mean. No one had even asked Bilbo, not that he was complaining. In fact, if it had not been for the fact that he was fretting about his kissing Thorin earlier Bilbo likely would have enjoyed the evening. Beorn’s home was warm and the food was plentiful for the first time since they had left Bag End. The members of the Company were pleasant and entertaining. Balin and Dori were seated together in the corner talking, Ori was scribbling in the book he carried in which he was recording their adventure, Bofur and Bifur were seated together and carving, Nori had somehow convinced Oin, Gloin, and Bombur to play cards with him, Dwalin was sharpening his axes in the corner with Thorin beside him, and Bilbo had found himself corned by the princes.

“Bilbo,” Fíli, “Kíli never got to finish telling you about dwarven courting.”

“Fíli, Kíli,” Bilbo said gently, “While I am sure it is very interesting, it’s not something I have any need to know.”

“I was talking about the importance of saving the life of your One,” Kíli said, ignoring Bilbo completely, “Now, as Balin pointed out it’s not a requirement to save your One, but it does make a statement that their life is important to you. That you would give up everything, including your own life, to protect your One.”

“So romantic,” Ori swooned. Bilbo had not even noticed the scribe moving closer towards the trio, “I’ve already made the beads I’m going to give my One.”

“Beads,” Bilbo questioned, but Ori was not listening but digging through his bag. The scribe was blushing as he pulled out two small metal objects. “They looked a lot nicer in my head,” Ori explained pulling at one of his curls and watching it spring back, “I’m not really that good with metalwork. I might make new ones in Erebor, but these ones hold a lot of sentimental value.”

Bilbo took one of the beads from the hobbits hand. Having seen the clasps in several of the dwarves’ hair -when they had had hair of course - he knew that Ori was right that it was not the best work. But then, it was surely a lot better than Bilbo could have done.

“They’re lovely Ori,” Bilbo said, “and I’m sure your One will be proud to wear them. Love isn’t based on how good you are at metal craft after all, you have your own skills.” Ori’s face burned brightly, his round hobbit cheeks blushing madly. “I think I like this custom,” Bilbo admitted, “it seems to be the dwarf equivalent of the hobbit flower crown, but unlike flowers it can never die.”

“I always thought so as well,” the voice of Gandalf surprised Bilbo and he wondered where the wizard had been all this time, “It is a lovely tradition.”

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said, “Would you like to join us?”

“No, no,” Gandalf said, a twinkle in his eye, “I think it might be best if we all retire for the night.”

*

“I think you’ve actually gotten better with that thing lad,” the booming voice of Dwalin broke Bilbo’s concentration. The other members of the Company were practicing with their weapons after they had promised Beorn they would not harm anything. Beorn himself had disappeared along with Gandalf. Bilbo himself was curled up with Ori’s book about their journey so far. He had asked the scribe if he could read it that morning over Second Breakfast and had been pleasantly surprised when the hobbit had agreed.

Bilbo looked up to see that Kíli was the one being complimented as Dwalin pulled the arrow shaft out of the target he had set up for the prince to practice.

“It’s heavier than I’m used to,” Kíli admitted, “but aiming seems easier.”

“For me too,” Ori piped up.

“Bilbo,” Kíli called, “Want to come try my bow? Now that Uncle’s got your sword you’ll need something to defend yourself and I doubt Beorn’s got a hobbit sized sword around here.”

“Kíli’s got a point,” Dwalin growled, “Come give it a try, hobbit.”

“If you’re any good I can probably fashion you a bow and some arrows,” Bofur offered, “Doesn’t look too hard to carve. I can just borrow Kíli’s as a reference.”

Bilbo stood, lazily. He did not really want to do so, but he could tell that it was not going to be all that optional and if he tried to refuse it would just become an argument and draw the attention of the others.

“Here you go Mister Boggins,” Kíli said brightly and Bilbo grimaced. The bow really was quite heavy. Much heavier than his sword had been, but he was able to lift it at least. Kíli showed him how to string it and Bilbo took a deep breath.

“So, just hit the center of the target,” Bilbo confirmed.

Dwalin snorted. “Hobbit, if you can come even close to hitting that target I will give you my share of the treasure in the mountain.”

Bilbo pulled the string back and let the arrow fly. It hit the target, dead center, with a heavy thud. There was dead silence and Bilbo suddenly realized that every member of the Company was staring at him.

“Well, it looks like Mister Boggins is going to be a very, very rich hobbit,” Kíli said slapping Dwalin on the shoulder.

“Oh, no, no,” Bilbo stuttered.

“Beginners luck,” Dwalin growled, “Do it again, hobbit.”

Bilbo bristled a bit at this accusation. He had never shot a bow and arrow before, but he had always had very good aim. That was what made him so good at Conkers after all.

Wordlessly he snatched another arrow from Kíli’s hand and took aim. And once again it hit dead center. “I’ll have you know that hobbits have very keen eyesight which translates into having very good aim. There’s a reason Conkers is so popular in the Shire. Many young hobbits could make that shot easily.” He dropped the bow having said his piece and stormed off. He had known his companions had not thought much of hobbits, but this experience was making it crystal clear how low their opinions really were.

He did not get very far, however, when he came across Beorn and Gandalf.

“Where is the little bunny going off to in such a hurry,” Beorn questioned and Bilbo skittered to a stop.

“Hobbit,” Bilbo corrected, but there was really no force behind it, “and I needed to get away from a certain Company.”

“The stubbornness of dwarves,” Gandalf said, blowing a smoke ring, “or perhaps, the stubbornness of hobbits currently. I thought you were reading young Ori’s book?”

“They decided defence practice was more important,” Bilbo said, plopping down beside the Wizard, “and then mocked me when I actually managed to use Kíli’s bow effectively.”

“Bows,” Ganalf started, “you will have noticed, are not commonly wielded by dwarves. Dwarves are skilled warriors, yes, but they generally lack the keen eyesight that makes elves so potent with bow and arrow. Kíli is one of very few dwarves who is talented with a bow. Perhaps they were simply surprised by your prowess, Bilbo Baggins. After all, hobbits do not generally wield anything at all. But, much like Kíli, you are no ordinary hobbit.”


	6. Lesson Six: Hobbits Don't Have Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company learns more about hobbits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with the governance of the Shire. But, well, considering all the other liberties I've taken, who cares?

When Bilbo returned to Beorn’s home it was much later and the other hobbits had all gone inside. Bombur was making dinner with the aid of Ori and Dori while the others seemed all caught up in their own thing. No one seemed to notice Bilbo’s return. He was not sure whether he should be pleased with this or not. Just when he had decided that it was a fortunate turn of events he felt an arm on his shoulder.

“Mister Baggins.” It was Balin’s voice which Bilbo suppose he should be grateful for. At least it was not Kíli wanting to talk about romance again.

“Gracious Balin, you gave me a fright,” Bilbo admitted turning to face the white haired hobbit, “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about earlier, lad,” Balin said, steering Bilbo away and hunkering them down in a corner away from all the others.

“Oh, Balin, it’s nothing, really,” Bilbo said, “I know I overreacted and I hope you all will forgive me.”

“Forgive you,” Balin said, confused, “No, lad, it is us who owe you the apology. We should not have assumed you to be useless. And we certainly should not have continued to do so after you’ve shown your bravery time and time again. But lad, why did you not tell us of your skill with a bow?”

The elder hobbit looked plain puzzled. His brow was creased under the white curls that adorned his hobbit head.

“W-well now,” Bilbo stuttered, “I didn’t know I had any. So how could I possibly be expected to tell you all.”

“Didn’t know,” Balin questioned, “But you shot that bow with as much skill as Kíli, perhaps more, lad.” Bilbo shrugged. “As I said before, we hobbits have good aim,” Bilbo said self-consciously, “But I’ve never held a bow before. You saw the Shire. We hobbits are a peaceful people. We care for simple things and thus the other races don’t tend to bother us because we don’t have anything they would really want. The Shire is a quiet place Balin, there is simply no need for us to be armed.”

“Well lad,” Balin said with a smile, “I imagine my brother is feeling quite foolish about now and regretting offering you his share of the treasure in the mountain.”

“What,” Bilbo said with a start, “but I would never actually take it. He doesn’t think I would, does he? I don’t even know what I’m going to do with my share if I even live that long. I certainly don’t want his as well. I didn’t sign that contract for the gold Balin.”

Balin said nothing, but Bilbo did not really wait around that long to hear if he had something planned to say. He knew it was rather improper to leave the hobbit hanging like that, but clearly he needed to talk to Dwalin. The bald hobbit was not hard to find, but, unfortunately for Bilbo he was right beside Thorin. Bilbo had make a concerted effort not to go anywhere near Thorin since the incident. At the same time though, the warrior and the king were rarely separated so Bilbo knew if he wanted to talk to Dwalin he would have to do so in front of Thorin. He took a deep breath and marched over to Thorin and Dwalin.

After standing there for a moment being ignored he cleared his throat.

“Ah, Burglar,” Thorin said.

“Hi Thorin,” Bilbo mumbled, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground, “Um, Dwalin, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Fine,” Dwalin said gruffly, “Say your piece.”

“Right here,” Bilbo squeaked and then composed himself, “Um, so Balin seems to think that you think that I’m going to take your share of the treasure in the mountain. And I just wanted to say that I’m not going to so of course. I have no need for treasure.”

“I am a warrior, hobbit,” Dwalin snarled, “I keep my promises and I promised you my share if you hit that target.”

“Well, yes,” Bilbo said, panicked. He had not wanted to insult him. He had only just won the goodwill of the entire Company and the last thing he needed was for things to go back the way they had been before. “But I never made any such agreement,”

Bilbo said. “Uncle, uncle,” Kíli said running over to the small group and interrupting the tense moment.

“What is it Kíli?” “If we can’t take back Erebor as hobbits maybe we can go back to the Shire,” the hobbit said, his dark curls bouncing in glee, “You can be King there. It seemed nice there after all.”

“Kíli,” both Thorin and Bilbo said at once.

They looked at each other, Bilbo suddenly shy. Bilbo motioned for the king to speak.

“Kíli,” Thorin said, “We are dwarves. Maybe not right now, but we belong in our home. In Erebor, not in the Shire.” Thorin looked askance at Bilbo and quickly added, “As nice as it might be there.”

Bilbo watched as Kíli practically deflated in front of his eyes.

“Kíli,” Bilbo said, more gently than Thorin had, “I appreciate that you saw the beauty in the Shire, but even if you were proper hobbits, well, the Shire does not have a King.”

“No King,” Kíli said, seemingly surprised, “Well then, who is in charge? You must have a leader.”

“Well,” Bilbo started, but Kíli cut him off.

“Wait a second Mister Boggins,” he said, “Everyone, come here, Mister Boggins is going to give us another lesson about hobbits.”

“You do not all have to,” Bilbo said, but before he could even finish the sentence he was surrounded by the rest of the Company. Bombur handed out dinner to each of them in turn. Gandalf was, once more, nowhere to be seen. Likely he had gone back out with Beorn as the skin changer was not around either.

“So what information about hobbits are you going to tell us,” Ori asked, prepped to write it all down.

“You do not need to write this down Ori,” Bilbo insisted, but the Scribe did not move a muscle.

“Bilbo says there is no King in the Shire,” Kíli said before Bilbo could say anything more. There were gasps and murmurs all around.

“Perhaps they’ve got a Lord like that Elrond fellow from Rivendell,” Bofur speculated.

“Ohhh,” Nori said.

“No, no,” Bilbo said, “We haven’t got a Lord or a King.”

“Well then who runs the Shire,” Fíli asked.

“Well, that would be the Thains,” Bilbo said.

“What’s a Thain,” Ori asked, scribbling everything down.

“Well there’s the Grand Thain,” Bilbo “said and his Council. Much like your King, being a Thain is a hereditary role. The Thains come from each of the great families in the Shire, but the role of the Grand Thain is elected from within the Council itself so any family has a chance. Once a Grand Thain is appointed the role is theirs for life.”

“That’s very interesting lad,” Balin said with a smile.

“So what’s your Grand Thain like now,” Ori asked. Bilbo could not help but smile at Ori’s inquisitive nature. The Scribe had a thirst for knowledge that reminded Bilbo of himself at a young age. Granted, his interest had been primarily in elves, but Ori’s interest in hobbits was very similar. He imagined he would have acted similarly if he had been able to meet a real life elf when he had been young.

“Well, currently the Grand Thain is a Took,” Bilbo said stifling his smile, “You will imagine, or I guess you would not since you did not spend much time in the Shire, but that certainly caused quite the stir Shire when it happened. The Tooks you see, are rather more adventurous than most hobbits. But he’s been doing a good job.”

“Say Bilbo,” Kíli said, “back in your home didn’t Gandalf call you a Took?”

“Well, half-Took,” Bilbo admitted, “My mother was a Took and my father a Baggins.” He chuckled. “It was quite the scandal in the Shire when they began courting. The Tooks are rather adventurous and unusual for hobbits, but the Baggins are among the most proper. But they loved each other and they were perfect for each other in their own way.”

“So you’re related to the ruler of the Shire then,” Dori said, “Was that not a problem with your father and your mother? The class divide I mean?”

“Love is love,” Bilbo said with a shrug, “Even those in the Shire recognize that.”

“As long as it between a male and a female,” Kíli scoffed.

“Well yes, there is that,” Bilbo said, “but that wasn’t an issue for them. And as I said, love is love. Class doesn’t matter in the Shire. But, anyway, that wouldn’t have been an issue anyway as the Baggins family has a Thainship as well.”

“Oh,” Ori squeaked, “So you’re related to two Thains?”

Bilbo chuckled. “My dear Ori, I am the Baggins Thain. Or, well, I suppose I was. I left my cousin Drogo my seat when I left with you all and I can’t imagine the rest of the Thains will want me back after I took off on this wild adventure.”

*

“Bilbo,” the familiar voice of Thorin Oakenshield greeted. After their earlier conversation Bilbo had insisted he needed time alone and had come out to smoke. From seemingly out of nowhere Gandalf had produced an unused pipe and some Old Toby for him to smoke that afternoon and Bilbo wanted to take advantage of it since he had lost all his things in the goblin caves. Bilbo took a deep breath and looked over at the King.

“Thorin,” he greeted, “What brings you out here?”

“I have something to give you,” Thorin said and he pulled something out from behind his back and handed it to Bilbo. Even in the darkness Bilbo realized it was a bow.

“Thorin,” he said again.

“It’s a bow,” Thorin said, “and there’s arrows too.” The King handed him a quiver with arrows in it. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments.

“So,” Bilbo said, “Did you draw the short stick?” Thorin looked at him, confused. “How did you end up being the one who had to come outside and give them to me,” Bilbo clarified.

“I wanted to,” Thorin said, looking a Bilbo seriously, “I made them after all.”

“You made,” Bilbo said, eyes wide, “but I thought you worked with metal, not wood?”

“I prefer to work with metal,” Thorin said, “but I am capable of working with wood as well.” Bilbo realized he was caressing the bow and snatched his hand away, blushing.

“Thank you Thorin,” Bilbo said, aware that the blush was only growing as he looked at the King.

“It was my pleasure,” Thorin rumbled, “You will need to be able to protect yourself after all. And, for what it’s worth, if those hobbits don’t want you as a Thain because of your willingness to help others and your kind heart then they are the foolish ones.”


	7. Lesson Seven: Hobbits Have Large Families

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hobbits finally enter Mirkwood.

“You’re sure we can’t just go around,” Ori’s voice asked not for the first time that morning. 

While they had all enjoyed the hospitality of Beorn, Thorin had been adamant that the Company needed to be moving on if they wanted to reach the mountain in time for Durin’s Day. The entire Company, save Thorin and Dwalin, had been outfitted with bows and arrows. And of course, Gandalf still carried his staff. Kíli had been pleased to show the other hobbits how the bows worked and had recruited Bilbo to help as all the hobbits oohed and ahhed over their newfound aim. Ori, in particular, was pleased to find himself among the most skilled for one of the only times in his life when it came to skills of war. 

Dwalin had taken to grumbling about how bows were a elvish weapon and refused one, while Thorin insisted on continuing to carry Orcrist though he clearly found Bilbo’s old sword easier to wield. Despite the lone holdouts though, the hobbits had taken to the new weapons marvellously. However, Bilbo knew that it was one thing to feel confident with their weapons at Beorn’s home and quite another thing out in the wilds. 

“I’m quite sure, Ori,” Gandalf answered the small hobbit. Beorn had leant them all ponies to make the journey to the Mirkwood, but had warned them to take the ponies no further than that. Bilbo had his apprehensions about entering the Mirkwood himself, Ori was not the only one who wished there was another way. Although Bilbo himself was quite fond of the elves he knew his companions were not - that much had been clear before they had even entered the Last Homely House. Additionally, as the wood drew ever closer Bilbo sensed a darkness there that had not been present near Rivendell which had him nervous as well. The darkness of the Mirkwood was the opposite of the light emanating from the home of Lord Elrond. 

“Yeah, come on,” Kíli cajoled, “You didn’t come all this way to wimp out because of a forest did you? We survived goblins after all.”

“And yeh certainly handled that alrigh’,” Dwalin said gruffly from his spot near the front of the group. Bilbo made eye contact with a few of the members of the Company and met the same surprised looks. Clearly he was not the only one surprised to hear a compliment come from the tattooed warrior. 

He was, he thought, perhaps the only one to see Ori blush and duck his head in embarrassment while thanking the older man. That was certainly an unlikely pairing, Bilbo mused to himself, but then, it was still more likely than him and Thorin. He blushed at the very thought. He needed to stop thinking about the King in that way.

“Mr. Boggins,” Kíli said with a grin, “Uncle wants us to scout ahead.”

Bilbo looked at Kíli dubiously. “That’s a job you usually do with your brother, Kíli,” Bilbo reminded the dark haired prince, “I find it hard to believe Thorin wants me to scout.”

“Oh, come on Boggins,” Kíli said, “He trusts you now. You saved his life, remember? Besides, you’re better than Fee with your bow - but don’t tell him I said that.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Bilbo said, though he still felt rather like he was being dragged into a trap of some sort. He tried to push those thoughts out of his head however as he trusted the members of the Company in a way he had never trusted anyone but his parents before. He urged his pony to hurry as he followed Kíli ahead of the group. “What exactly are we supposed to be scouting for Kíli,” Bilbo asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the others. He had only just gained a modicum of respect, he did not want to lose it because he had never scouted before. “We can practically see straight to Mirkwood from here,” Bilbo reminded the prince, “And we really should not be going in there alone I don’t think.”

“We’ve just got to keep our eyes open Mr. Boggins,” Kíli said as their ponies fell into step, “I always keep my eyes open, but, see, Uncle, well now, sometimes he doesn’t see what’s right in front of his face.”

Bilbo was rather confused at the sudden switch in conversation topics. 

“Alright,” Bilbo said slowly, unsure as to where this conversation was going.

“See, Uncle, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, can be a bit blind. He can get a bit too focused on one thing, like the Quest, and kind of become oblivious to anything else happening around him. And this goes double when it comes to dealing with feelings Mr. Boggins. If I had met my One, even if it were on this quest, you could be sure I wouldn’t be ignoring them, but then, Uncle has always been bad with feelings.”

“How would you know if your Uncle had met his One, Kíli,” Bilbo questioned, “If he himself does not realize?”

“People often think of me as a little kid, they think that I don’t notice things,” Kíli said, “and sometimes that’s useful, but I do notice things.” Kíli shrugged. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Bilbo stared wide-eyed at the prince. “What do you mean if I want to talk about it,” Bilbo said, “Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with your Uncle? He’s the one with the feelings apparently.”

Kíli sighed. “I never thought Uncle would find his One in a hobbit, you know,” Kíli said conversationally, “but then, I didn’t really know quite what a hobbit was. Look at me now! Oh how things change.” Kíli grinned. “Looks pretty safe here, Uncle Bilbo.”

Before Bilbo could even register what the prince had said he had zoomed back towards the group on his pony. Bilbo hurried after him, reminding himself the entire way that he could not strangle the prince no matter how much he may want to.

*

Even Kíli’s light mood vanished when the Mirkwood was upon them. They had let the ponies go and the motley group stood at the edge of the wood. 

“This is where I leave you,” Gandalf said sternly, “Stay to the path and do not stray. There are strange things in the Mirkwood.”

“Yeah, they’re called elves,” Dwalin grumbled. 

“I would suggest against saying such things in Thranduil’s realm,” Gandalf cautioned, “The elven king has eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Alright,” Thorin said, his voice a rumble over the crowd, “We stick together and we stick to the path.” The king did not sound particularly pleased by this turn of events, but then he had not been pleased by much lately. 

Bilbo was surprised to find himself beside Thorin in Dwalin’s usual spot as he led the way into the wood, the rest of the group close behind. He could hear Fíli and Kíli whispering to each other right behind them, but could not make out the words. But then, after what Kíli had implied about him and Thorin earlier he was not sure he wanted to know what the princes were whispering about. 

“Stay close, Bilbo,” Thorin said, his voice hushed as the rest of the Company’s, “You heard Gandalf. We must be careful in these woods.”

“What do you think might be hiding in here,” Bilbo questioned the king. The path was not large and the Company had divided themselves into groups of twos who were forced to walk closely together. Thorin and Bilbo at the front, followed by the princes, who were followed by Bofur and Bifur, who were followed by Dori and Nori, who were followed by Oin and Gloin, who were followed by Balin and Bombur, and finally Ori and Dwalin bringing up the rear. Bilbo did not know what they would have done had the rest of them still been dwarves, the path was tight enough as it was. 

“I don’t know,” Thorin admitted, though it sounded as if it pained him to do so, “We must keep our eyes open and our senses alert.”

Despite the warnings and worry though, quite a while passed without running into anything at all. The forest was dark and creepy, but nothing untoward had happened. Bilbo did not think he had even had a bug cross his path. 

“Is it just me or is it getting darker,” Bilbo whispered.

“The sun is probably starting to go down,” Thorin said, he stopped in his tracks and looked up, “I wish we had a better way of knowing time of day in here.”

There was grumbling from those behind who had been stopped suddenly, but they hushed quickly.

“I could probably climb the tree,” Bilbo suggested, “Getting a look at where the sun is would help and I used to climb trees all the time in my youth.” Thorin did not look convinced, but at the rest of the Company supported him he could say very little.

“Fine,” he said, “but be quick about it.”

Bilbo did not even answer him but began his ascent up the branches. It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually he popped his head through the tree tops and gasped. The forest was more expansive than he had ever imagined. It could take days to get through it all. 

The reason for the increased darkness was easily apparent as the sun was in the middle of setting. Bilbo had no idea what the plan would be for the night. Would Thorin expect them to simply keep walking through the wood without sleep? Bilbo suspected there was not enough room to set up any sort of camp on the path. 

Just as he began to think of making his descent he heard yelling, panicked yelling. In shock he lost hi grip on the branches and began to fall through the trees, crashing through branches painfully. The only perk to this was the fact that he made it down quicker than he would have otherwise. He drew his bow which had mercifully not broken and looked around wildly. 

It did not take long to realize what the issue was - spiders, larger than he had ever seen or imagined were everywhere. Following the lead of the other hobbits Bilbo began shooting at them, trying to take them down. He noticed that several hobbits were missing - notably Dwalin. But he had no time to worry, he just had to trust that the warrior would be able to take care of himself. 

The spiders seemed never ending. Bilbo was tiring and the problem with bow and arrow was that there was a limited supply. He had used all of his ages ago, but managed to find more on the ground - likely shot by his companions. 

“BILBO!” 

He heard Ori scream, but it was too late, the last thing he saw was a giant spider before the world went black.

*

“Are you alright?”

The voice was not one he recognized and when he opened his eyes it was obvious why. It did not belong to one of his companions, but to a pretty, red-headed elf. 

Bilbo put a hand to his throbbing head, but managed to get to his feet. 

“I think so,” he answered her, “Are we still in Mirkwood?”

The woman smiled. “You are indeed,” she said, “My name is Tauriel. Perhaps you would be willing to tell me yours? Your companions have not been so forthcoming.”

Bilbo looked around and noted that most of the Company stood around him although Oin, Gloin, and Bombur were still missing. And there were many elves surrounding them as well much to their clear disdain. Bilbo wanted to kick them all. Hobbits had no quarrel with elves. Hobbits had no quarrel with anyone, well outside of other hobbits at least.

“My comrades are cutting them down,” Tauriel said, answering the unasked question, “They will be joining us in a moment.” And, indeed, Bilbo saw Bombur approaching, accompanied by another elf. 

He rubbed his temple. “Right, you wanted my name,” Bilbo said, pulling himself up as tall as he could (which, it must be said, was still miniscule compared to the elves), “My name is Bilbo Baggins and these are some of the more adventurous members of my family. Well, the Took side anyway. The Bagginses aren’t really adventurous hobbits.”

The woman looked stunned. “Hobbits,” she said, positively gleeful, “I’ve never met a hobbit, I’ve only read about them. They don’t usually come this far. Is everything alright in the Shire? Men, lay down your arms. They’re hobbits.”

For a moment Bilbo worried the elves would treat the hobbits like Beorn had, as if they were toys, but they simply put away their weapons and smiled serenely at the members of the Company. Bilbo would have laughed at the looks on the Company’s faces if the situation were slightly less dire. 

“Oh yes, the Shire is fine,” Bilbo said, “We just got a bit restless. As I said, the Tooks tend to be more adventurous than other hobbits and these are the most adventurous of the bunch.”

“Since they won’t tell us their names, will you,” one of the elves asked.

“Alright,” Bilbo said trying to placate the elves as he noticed the last of the Company returned, “Well, as I said, I’m Bilbo.” He walked towards the nearest members of the Company suddenly grateful for the size of hobbit families as he began trying to remember names of Took relative whom he could gift the Company with the names of. “This is my cousin Aldagrim,” he said pointing to Nori, “and Hildigrim.” He pointed to Dori.

“Paladin,” he said for Ori. 

He then turned to Dwalin who was still standing beside Ori and knew exactly who to name him after, “and this is Bandobras,” he said naming Dwalin after the Took who had apparently fought orcs. 

“Peregrin,” he named Balin.

“Fortinbras and Ferdinand,” he gave for Oin, and Gloin.

He pointed at Bombur. “Hildibrand.”

“Wait,” one of the nameless elves said, “I though you said his name was Hilibrand?” The elf pointed at Nori.

Bilbo shook his head. “No, he’s Hildigrim. Easy mistake to make though,” Bilbo said cheerfully, “Moving onwards we have “Isingrim and Reginard.” For Bifur and Bofur.

“Isenbard and Isembold,” he said pointing at Fíli and Kíli.

“And last, but certainly not least, Gerontius,” Bilbo said, motioning to Thorin. 

“I think my head hurts,” one of the elves said, “And you said this wasn’t your whole family?” The elf seemed disbelieving.

“No, not at all, not even a small fraction,” Bilbo said with a smile, “Hobbits you see, well, we have large families.”

“Apparently,” yet another elf said, “Now that we’ve all had a lesson on the fertility of hobbits we should be getting back. I don’t fancy being attacked by spiders again, especially not after dark.”

“Of course,” Tauriel said, “Come Bilbo Baggins and kin. The wood grows dark and you will be safe in our kingdom. You have come a very long way.”

“We have to go with elves,” Bilbo heard Nori mutter and this time Bilbo did kick him and give him a look. 

“We would be honored,” Bilbo answered for the entire Company, “Thank you Tauriel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was... a lot longer than intended. Thanks for sticking with it. I hope to have the next part out soon.


	8. Lesson Eight: Hobbits are Kin to Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hobbits are honored guests of Thranduil. Thorin and Bilbo finally have a private conversation.

The rest of the Company was clearly unhappy as the elves led them into the forest kingdom of Thranduil, but Bilbo was rather exited. Even if he were not fascinated by the elves, after running into the spiders in the forest the safety they would find behind the kingdoms walls was appealing. And, as fascinated as Bilbo was with the elves they seemed equally fascinated with him. The elf woman, Tauriel, had insisted on him walking beside her in the lead and was peppering him with questions on hobbit life - he had barely had a chance to ask her anything at all as he was so busy answering her questions. 

“I will need to tell my king about you,” Tauriel said as the heavy gates of the kingdom shut behind them, “he will no doubt be pleased to receive you. For now, we will find you some overnight chambers where you can relax. I am sure there will be a great feast in your honor later. There have not been hobbits within the walls of Mirkwood in, well, possibly ever.”

Bilbo had little time to marvel at the beautiful architecture as Tauriel led them quickly through winding paths. The other elves had dispersed as soon as they had arrived leaving just Tauriel with them. However, she soon deposited them at a set of interconnected rooms. Much to Bilbo’s surprise the rooms were clearly made for creatures smaller than elves.

“I know they’re not quite hobbit sized,” Tauriel said, apology evident in her voice, “but when the kingdom was built there was no expectation of receiving hobbit visitors.” The other members of the Company had rushed ahead into the rooms leaving Bilbo alone with the elf. 

“But they’re much too small for elves or men,” Bilbo said pensively.

“Oh, yes,” Tauriel said, “They were built for dwarves actually. Primarily for diplomats of Erebor when it still housed the great kingdom.” The elf looked sorrowful. “But of course, they have been in disuse since the dragon took up residence there. Anyways, I must go tell my king of our visitors.”

“Right,” Bilbo said watching the elf retreat before turning back to the door behind which he could hear the rumblings of the rest of the Company. 

“Bilbo,” Ori said as soon as he entered the room, “Are hobbit families really that large?”

“Yes, they are,” Bilbo said, “There is a lot of farming in the Shire and farming requires lots of hands. Plus, hobbits are a fertile race and thus, hobbitlings.” 

“These rooms are too small for elves,” Kíli said thoughtfully, “Although, maybe they’re for young elves? Like babies?”

“They’ve given us children’s rooms,” Dwalin roared, clearly angry.

But Balin put a hand on his brothers arm. “Nay,” Balin said, “If I’m not mistaken these rooms were built for dwarven visitors.”

“He’s right,” Bilbo said, “Or at least that is what Tauriel said. Now, I expect you all to be gracious to our hosts. I know you all don’t like elves, but they’ve certainly done nothing to hobbits that would merit your rudeness. And you’d probably all be thrown in the dungeon right now if you were still dwarves so you should appreciate this.”

“We wouldn’t have been bested by those spiders if we were dwarves,” Thorin growled back. Bilbo did not know what to say so he chose to say nothing at all. 

“Bilbo’s right though,” Bofur pointed out, “We should take advantage of the hospitality. I’m going to go explore these rooms a bit.”

“I wonder if the last dwarves here left anything behind,” Ori said, his historians mind clearly curious. 

The rest of the Company slowly dispersed until only he, Thorin, and Dwalin were left. Both Thorin and Dwalin looked like less than pleasant company at the moment likely due to the proximity of elves and so Bilbo made the decision leave and try and find one of the others. Even Bifur seemed likely to be a more reasonable conversation partner at the moment. 

*

“Don’t worry Mr. Boggins,” Kíli said, “We’ll be on our best behavior.”

Somehow Bilbo doubted that to be the truth, but it was clearly all he was going to get. Tauriel had returned and true to her expectations she had brought word that there was to be a great feast in their honor. Bilbo had spent the intervening time forcing the members of the Company to bathe and giving them lessons on life in the Shire. It would simply not do for any of them to say something that would lead to them being found out. If they did not know the answer to something they were asked Bilbo advised them to stay quiet and find a way to deflect the question to him. 

Unfortunately they would have to go in their road clothes as that was all they had. They would likely look horribly underdressed for a feast with elves, but they had no other choice. 

There was a knock on the door of what Bilbo classified as a sitting room. The Company had found that their rooms were actually more like a small home with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, and anything else one would find in a civilized society. 

“Come in,” Bilbo called and was unsurprised to be met with the figure of Tauriel. She had promised to lead them to the feast hall and Bilbo supposed it was time. “I apologize for the state of our clothing,” Bilbo said hurriedly, “we don’t have anything else.”

The elf smiled serenely. “Perhaps we can see to your clothing needs before you leave,” she speculated, “I do not imagine the King would refuse.” She began leading them once more through the twisting halls and though Bilbo walked beside her she spoke loud enough for the whole Company to hear. “You are to be the guests of honor this night,” she explained, “Which means you will be seated at the high table with King Thranduil and his son Legolas. I have also been given permission to join you as we have established a rapport and the King wishes for you to feel comfortable here.”

“That’s very kind of the King,” Kíli said brightly, “We will certainly have to offer him our thanks for his generosity.”

Bilbo thought the prince was laying it on a tad thick, but at the same time there were certainly worse ways he could be acting. 

Bilbo was not the only one who gasped when two elves opened a set of double doors and they were given their first glance of what was clearly the feasting hall. Bilbo also thought he was not the only one who was intimidated by the great mass of elves who were staring at them (though he suspected he was the only one who would freely admit it). There was murmuring surrounding them as Tauriel led them to the front where two blonde elves sat. Clearly, this was King Thranduil and his son. The king and prince rose as the hobbits approached.

“Welcome young hobbits,” the elder said, “I am King Thranduil and this is my son, Legolas. We welcome you to our woodland kingdom. May you feel safe within our walls, and enjoy your stay.”

For what was possibly the first time all the eyes of the Company went to Bilbo instead of Thorin. Clearly, they expected him to lead them and Bilbo was both honored and terrified by the realization. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

First, he bowed. “Thank you for your kind words and warm welcome, your majesty,” Bilbo said, aware of the shaking of his voice, “We hobbits are but a simple people, but my kin and I owe our lives to you and yours. We greatly appreciate your hospitality and are honored to be asked to dine at your table.” Bilbo had no idea if he had spoken appropriately, but the king seemed to be pleased enough as he motioned for them to take their seats. Bilbo found himself ushered into a seat right beside the king himself with Tauriel on his other side. 

The food that was served was plentiful and Bilbo was pleased to note that none of the members of the Company complained about the greenery being served. It was also fortunate that there were few elves at the table as that allowed Bilbo to field most of the questions, though Ori, Balin, and Kíli also held their own quite well. 

“You have come quite a ways from the Shire, Bilbo Baggins,” King Thranduil noted.

“Yes, your highness.”

“I imagine you have not had an easy journey,” he continued.

“Well, we ran into some nasty trolls,” Bilbo said.

“But Bilbo outsmarted them,” Kíli piped up.

“And then there were goblins,” Bilbo continued.

“But we escaped from them too,” Fíli said with a grin.

“Well done,” Thranduil congratulated.

“Well, we hobbits are light on our feet,” Kíli said, “Sneaking is practically second nature.”

“Your size probably helps with that,” the elf prince pointed out, “Lightness on your feet is something elves and hobbits have in common, but our height rather keeps us from being very effective at sneaking.”

“Well we’ve got the ears in common too,” Tauriel said with a smile, “but yours aren’t quite as pointed. It makes sense though, since elves and hobbits are related.”

“True,” Bilbo said, “Not very closely, but more so than any of the other races.”

“Do you plan to go much further,” Legolas asked, “There’s not much east of here - really just Laketown and the Iron Hills.”

“Well then that’s where we’ll go,” Bilbo declared, “We want to see all of Middle Earth.” It was a lie of course. “We’ll be the first hobbits ever to do so,” which was much more true, “And probably the last.” Again, probably very true.

“I thought you said the Shire was safe,” Tauriel said, clearly alarmed.

“Oh, it is,” Dwalin spoke up, “but hobbits aren’t exactly the adventurous sort.”

“Most of them anyway,” Bombur said, “Most of us like more pleasant things than adventure. Like food.” 

“Well then we are even more fortunate to have hobbits within our walls,” Thranduil declared, “You will stay a few days of course. We will outfit you will more supplies.”

“That’s not necessary,” Thorin said, it was nearly a growl, but not quite.

“We want to,” Thranduil said, and that was clearly his final decision on the matter.

*

When they returned to their rooms Thorin looked more brooding than Bilbo thought he had ever seen the king. Even worse than he had been in Rivendell.

“What is wrong with your uncle,” Bilbo hissed at Fíli as the others had made themselves scared.

“He’s jealous that you like elves so much,” Fíli whispered, though he looked guilty as he said it, “Just, talk to him.” And with that Fíli left him alone with Thorin Oakenshield. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, hunkering down next to the king despite his better judgement, “What is wrong? I know it’s not just the elves, so what is it?” He remembered what Fíli had said, but that seemed like a ludicrous reason for him to be upset.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, his voice rasping, “Why do you like elves so much?”

This was not exactly the path he had expected this conversation to take, but it was something he could answer. “My mom was adventurous in her youth,” Bilbo said, “before she settled down with my dad. Until me she was the most adventurous hobbit the Shire had ever seen. She had even seen elves - or so she said. When I was little she tried to teach me Sindarin, the language of the elves. Dad thought it was absolute foolishness, but mom insisted that one day I would meet elves as well - and, when that didn’t work, she would remind dad that elves and hobbit are kin and it was good to learn about your kin. When dad died mom was all I had left, and she didn’t last much longer, but those last few months of her life she would talk about the elves and her time in Rivendell. It brought her so much joy, and at the end talking about the elves was the only thing that made her smile. So when I think of the elves it makes me remember my mom. I still miss her every day.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, his voice hoarse, “I’m sorry. I have been acting like a child. I did not realize.” 

“How could you,” Bilbo said, “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Bilbo, look at me,” Thorin demanded and Bilbo looked at the king. Suddenly it was strange seeing him as a hobbit. It had been fun at first, but now it just seemed wrong to see those striking blue eyes in a rounded hobbit face and curly black hair and a beardless chin instead of the wild black mane and beard. “You deserve an explanation for my behavior,” the king said firmly, “You see I have spent all of my adulthood focused on protecting my people and reclaiming our home. Dwarves love only only once and I never expected to meet my One, especially not on this quest. I saw love as a distraction. And then I met you. You were fussy and soft and somehow… Well, I am not good with my words Bilbo Baggins. So perhaps..” Thorin cut off and leaned towards Bilbo. He did it slowly, giving Bilbo time to pull back or say something to avoid it, but Bilbo did neither and their lips met. 

It was not like when Bilbo had kissed Thorin chastely at Beorns. It quickly deepened and Bilbo found himself not caring about the lack of air in his lungs. When they broke apart Bilbo wanted to run, skittish once more, but Thorin was holding him firmly. 

“You are my One, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin said, his words as firm as his hold. Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words there was simply a squeak and Bilbo fainted.


	9. Lesson Nine: Hobbits are Good Listeners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil's side of the story leads to trouble in paradise for our favorite hobbit couple.

Bilbo and Thorin were rarely parted for the rest of their stay in the elf kingdom. Bilbo blushed hotly at the knowing looks the other members of the Company would give them, but as no one outright said anything there was little he could do.

“Bilbo, Gerontius,” the now familiar voice of King Thranduil greeted them on their last night behind the safety of his walls. The two of them had taken what would likely be their last opportunity for peace and found themselves a secluded alcove in the elven kingdom.

“King Thranduil,” Bilbo greeted for the both of them. Thorin had, amazingly, managed not to be overly rude to any of the elves so far and Bilbo hoped it would continue to be that way. “We were just enjoying our last night before being back on the road,” Bilbo explained, “Adventurous we may be, but we’re still hobbits. It is difficult to leave comforts behind.”

“I shall join you,” the tall, blonde elf said folding himself down beside the two of them. Out of the corner of his eye Bilbo could see Thorin glower, and admittedly he was vaguely annoyed as well. The two of them had been sneaking off as much as possible since the first night, but never had they gotten enough time alone to do anything more than basic exploration and it was becoming frustrating. And once they were back on the road Bilbo knew his modesty would not allow him to do much of anything at all with the king. 

“Of course your majesty,” Bilbo said trying for a lightness of tone he did not know if he achieved.

“Thranduil,” the elf said suddenly, much to Bilbo’s surprise, “Call me Thranduil.”

“Alright,” Bilbo said and the three of them sat in silence for a few moments. Though he could tell Thorin was becoming restless he was perfectly content to wait for the elf king to speak. It seemed likely that he wanted to, for there was little other reason for the elf to have sought them out. Bilbo, like most hobbits, could be very patient - while he doubted Thorin knew the meaning of the word patience. 

“It is an honor to have hobbits in our halls,” Thranduil said suddenly, “We don’t really get many visitors here, not even our kin from Imladris. The Mirkwood is intimidating, others see it as a dark place. I can only hope you and your kin have found it to be a place of peace as I always have. Even in the old days it was rare we would receive visitors.”

“Tauriel told me that our rooms were made for dwarves,” Bilbo pressed gently. 

“Ah, yes, the dwarves of Erebor,” Thranduil said sadly and Bilbo could feel Thorin tense, ready to fight with the elf king. Bilbo laid a hand on Thorin’s knee in hopes of calming him though he did not know if it would be effective. “I’m sure you’ve read of the tale of Erebor. You’ll likely see the mountain itself in your travels, but I warn you not to go exploring in there unless you wish to die by fire.” Bilbo wanted to laugh as he remembered reading the details of all the ways he could die on this quest back in Bag End. It seemed so long ago now. “The dwarves of Erebor were always braver than most,” Thranduil continued, “The darkness of the forest inspired no fear in them. We were always pleased to have them as visitors. We actually expanded the dwarven areas of the kingdom when Smaug attacked. We had hoped we could house many of the dwarves, but they did not want our help. Understandable, I suppose, that they would go to their kin, but I had hoped…”

“Why didn’t you help them with the dragon,” Thorin said, challengingly. 

“We elves must seem as warriors compared to your people, Gerontius,” Thranduil said, “But that is not the case. We can protect ourselves against most of the creatures of Middle Earth, but we are more scholars than warriors. We led an army to Erebor when the dragon attacked, but we got there too late. We could not be any help to them. The dwarves still hold a grudge against us because of this in fact. They feel as if we turned our back on them in their time of need. I wish we could have been more help. For all the faults King Thrór had, no king deserves to lose their kingdom in that way.”

“Why did the dragon attack Erebor,” Bilbo asked, “Why not somewhere else?”

“We all have our weaknesses Bilbo,” Thranduil, “You spoke earlier of the difficulties hobbits have leaving the comforts of home, but for dwarves it is not home but goldlust that is their weakness and it was particularly strong in King Thrór. The kingdom of Erebor was wealthy, it had gold beyond imagination and, unfortunately for the dwarves, dragons share in their goldlust. The mountain and all its treasure was like a beacon for Smaug. You said once that the hobbits live in peace because they live simple lives that give no other races reasons to want to attack, well, Erebor had something Smaug wanted, and so he attacked.” Thranduil sighed. 

“Perhaps there will be dwarves in your halls again,” Bilbo said to the king.

“You clearly have not yet met any dwarves,” Thranduil said, “They are a new level of stubborn. Just wait until you reach the Iron Hills.”

“Elves live very long lives,” Bilbo reminded the elf king, “It might yet still happen.”

“I will not hold my breath, Bilbo Baggins,” Thranduil said, “but thank you for speaking with me. It does my heart good to speak freely and you allow me to do so in a way I cannot with my subjects, nor my son.”

“Hobbits make good listeners,” Bilbo said with a smile, “or at least that’s what I’ve always been told.” 

“I will take my leave,” the king said, rising once more to his feet, “It will be an early morning to see you and your kin off Bilbo.” 

“Good night, Thranduil,” Bilbo said.

“Good night.” 

As soon as the king was out of earshot he turned back to Thorin. “Now,” he said with a wicked smile, “Where were we?” Thorin however, did not smile back. The hobbit face was in shadow and he looked like he was brooding. 

“The tree shagger is right,” Thorin said, brushing Bilbo’s hand away, “We have an early morning. We should return to our chambers.” Thorin had stood and Bilbo watched him head for the door disappointed.

“Of course, Thorin.”

*

Bilbo had spent the night restless in his bed. He did not know what he had done to upset the king and he hated being on the receiving end of Thorin’s coldness. He knew he had let his feeling grow out of hand - after all, Thorin was a king - but knowing that did not make it easier. Clearly he had just been a short diversion for the king. Maybe Thorin and the other dwarves had seen him as a kind of entertainment while they were forced to accept the hospitality of the elves. 

Bilbo was hurt. There was no way around it. However, he had signed a contract and he would see it through to the best of his ability. With that in mind he shouldered the new pack that Thranduil’s elves had provided him with and headed to where they were supposed to meet at first light. He was running a bit behind, but knew Thranduil would not let the others leave without him.

“Ah, Bilbo,” Balin greeted, “We were beginning to worry, lad.”

“I’m here,” he said. Making sure to avoid looking at Thorin as he took his place in the line.

“I will send a guard with you to get you out of the forest,” the king said, “I apologize for not being able to provide you with mounts.”

“That’s perfectly alright,” Bilbo said, his voice hollow, “You have already done more than enough.”

“Alright,” he heard Tauriel say, “All out.”

Bilbo fell into step behind the members of the Company. They were quieter than usual, likely due to the presence of the elves, but Bilbo could not bring himself to care. He was not much up to conversation and was thus grateful for the silence. 

“You will stop and visit us on your way back, I hope,” the voice of Legolas said, surprising Bilbo, “Perhaps you will stay the winter.”

“Perhaps,” Bilbo said knowing full well that it was unlikely he would see the winter. After all, he would have to face a dragon before then. “My deepest gratitude to you and your father,” Bilbo said, “You were very kind to us in a time of need.”

“What has you so upset,” the elf prince asked bluntly.

“It’s nothing,” Bilbo lied, “Just simple hobbit things. Missing the comforts of home I suppose.” Legolas looked like he did not believe him, but he let the subject drop. 

The sun was high in the sky by the time the Company exited the Mirkwood. The elves said their kind good byes and pointed them on to Laketown. The elves had warned them that Laketown was not as pleasant a place as it once was, but a letter from Thranduil would provide them with the shelter of the home of a man they called the Master. Bilbo pocketed it, but as soon as the elves retreated out of sight he handed it to Fíli to give to his uncle. 

“Has something gone wrong, Mr. Boggins,” Kíli asked as he drifted to the back of the group as they made their way towards Laketown. Thorin had decreed that they would spend one night there and head up to the mountain in the morning. “You and uncle seemed so happy and now, well, uncle’s back to brooding and you seem to have joined him in the habbit.”

“I am not a joke, Kíli and I do not appreciate being treated as a simple diversion,” Bilbo ground out, “Hobbits may not have soulmates the way your people do, but that does not mean we do not have feelings.”


	10. Lesson Ten: Hobbits are Skilled at Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company spends a night in Laketown.

The man they called the Master was one of the most repulsive creatures Bilbo had ever seen. True to the word of the elves he had, somewhat grudgingly, offered the Company the use of his home for the night. Bilbo wished fervently that he was back in the Mirkwood with the elves. 

The Master’s home was quite nice, though Bilbo thought privately that it had nothing on the elvish kingdom. The other members of the Company seemed thrilled however. The rooms they had been provided were plentiful and the Master had sent servants to meet their whims. Bilbo, for his part, had retreated into a room on his own. He did not want to talk to anyone and especially not the other members of the Company, most of whom had been shooting him pitying looks since the elves had left. Bilbo rather suspected Kíli had had a word with them and Bilbo actually found himself appreciating it as it meant the others were giving him his space. 

“Everything is much too large here,” Bilbo complained aloud to no one. He sighed. He supposed he should be more upset that he would likely be incinerated the next day, but all he could think about was how much he missed Thorin. Even when Thorin was brooding it just made Bilbo want to make the king feel better. 

“Bilbo,” a muffled voice called. He could not recognize it through the wooden door, but it was clearly his name being called.

“Come in,” he called, though he realized his tone sounded less than friendly. He was surprised to note when the door opened that it was not one of the princes, but Balin standing in his doorway. Bilbo pushed himself to a sitting position and looked at the white haired hobbit. “What can I do for you Balin,” Bilbo asked him, “Last I checked the incineration was scheduled for tomorrow.” Bilbo laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. Apparently he was embracing dark humor this night. 

“Bilbo… lad,” the hobbit said slowly.

“It’s alright Balin,” Bilbo said, “I read the contract before I signed it. I knew what I was getting myself into. Now, is there something I can do for you?”

“The Master wishes us to join him for dinner,” Balin said, “All of us. It’s to be a veritable feast. Though a smaller affair then in Mirkwood I would imagine.”

“Right,” Bilbo said, “Well then, I’ll just change into some of the clothes Thranduil gave us and I’ll be right down. Thank you for informing me.” 

Balin stood and looked at him for a moment and looked like he wanted to say something. But, Balin turned and left without saying a word leaving Bilbo to his own devices. 

Reaching into the pack Bilbo was not quite sure what he was going to find. Elven seamstresses had basically cornered him and measured every inch to make sure it would all fit right, but he had been too occupied with Thorin to care about giving any input into the clothing design. He almost laughed however when he pulled the clothing out. It would fit him certainly, but it was very flowing and elvish in design. He supposed that would be to be expected as the elves would really only have experience with their own designs. Especially the elves of Mirkwood who seemed rather isolated from the rest of Middle Earth. 

The clothing was done in a beautiful moss green and was more, uhm, flowing than anything a hobbit male would wear. A hobbit lass perhaps, but that was not to call the elven style feminine, but simply noting that they had a different style sense than hobbits. 

Bilbo shucked his road clothes off and begin doing up the buttons on the elvish garments. It was longer than he was used to, his feet were almost covered by the flowing fabric, but a look in the mirror made it clear that he actually did not look terrible in it. Certainly the elvish garments looked rather odd on him as he was not an elf, but he thought he looked rather handsome. 

He ran his fingers through his curls. They were getting a bit long. He would need to cut them before going up to the mountain. Despite the fact that he had joked about incineration with Balin earlier he certainly would like to have the best chance of surviving the dragon and having hair everywhere would certainly hinder him there. 

It was only when he realized he had been staring at himself in the mirror for some minutes that he realized he was stalling. The thought of dinner with the Master was appalling and he found that he had very little appetite. However, he was a hobbit and no hobbit would ever think of being so rude as to turn down a dinner invitation unless one was ill. And while Bilbo suspected he could fake illness easily he knew it would only lead to more problems in the long run. 

It was easy to find the dining room as the noise coming from it was unmistakable. 

“Bilbo,” Ori greeted when he stepped into the room.

“What. Are. You. Wearing?” The question came from Thorin. Each word spat from the kings mouth. Bilbo did not want to be hurt, but he was. 

“I changed for dinner,” Bilbo said making a point of not looking in Thorin’s direction as he took a seat beside Ori. “It is only polite to wear your best clothes when you are invited to dine with important people and as the elves were kind enough to give me some different clothes my road clothes are no longer my only option.”

“Well, well,” the Master said, “I am honored that you saw fit to change.”

“It is a sign of respect for the host,” Bilbo said. 

“Well, I think you look simply smashing, Mr. Boggins,” Kíli said with a roguish grin, “Don’t you think so Fee?”

“Oh, right,” Fíli said, “Lovely, yes.”

“Erm, thank you,” Bilbo said awkwardly, “and thank you for inviting us to dinner and graciously allowing us to stay in your home.”

“Oh, you will be welcome anytime,” the man said, “You and your friends. So, you’re hobbits?”

“We are, yes,” Bilbo answered having become so used to answering questions while in the Mirkwood, “from the Shire.”

“And you are enjoying my Laketown,” the Master said, juice from his meat dribbling down his chin. Bilbo tried to keep himself from recoiling in disgust and concentrated on flattering the man. If there was anything Bilbo had learned about dealing with others in the Shire it was that even those found most unpleasant must be borne with grace and dignity. And, in fact, showing the greater manners was often the way one won in those circumstances. Or at least that is what he had always told himself when the Sackville-Bagginses had visited his home (and often tried to knick his silverware). 

“It is a wonderful place,” Bilbo said, “I only wish we could stay longer, but alas we cannot.”

“Excuse me, Master.” A servant came into the room dragging another man. This one thinner than the Master (although that really did not say much) and with longer brown hair. The two of them were clearly not friends if the way the one being dragged in was cursing meant anything. “Bard’s been caught breaking his license. He was bringing in fish.”

Bilbo watched the interaction closely. He saw the way the man, Bard, pulled himself from the others grip and stood proud and tall. Clearly unashamed of his actions. He saw the way the Master looked at Bard, as if he were vermin. 

“The people are starving,” Bard said and Bilbo could believe it. Laketown was clearly not well off and he could tell that the townsfolk were living in poverty while the Master enjoyed every pleasure. 

“This is the last time, Bard,” the Master said, angry. 

“Oh, please don’t hurt him,” Bilbo said. He recoiled just a little bit more than he really needed to for effect. 

“You have a problem, hobbit,” the Master said, clearly now angry with him. Bilbo hoped desperately that he was doing the right thing. 

“I simply cannot abide violence,” Bilbo said cringing, “No hobbit can. And surely bringing food for the townsfolk is not something one should be punished for, but celebrated. We had a bad winter once in the Shire. We call it the Fell Winter. It was hard, but we pulled together and the Thains who rule the Shire are still celebrated for it to this day.” He was laying it on a tad thick he knew. “When a people prosper their rulers are celebrated,” Bilbo said, “When a people face hardship. Well, that’s when trouble starts, and riots.”

The Master did not look very pleased with his little speech, but Bilbo could see the look of greed in his eyes. Bilbo had been counting on his greed, hoping it was not only for material goods, but the immaterial as well. 

“You had best be thanking this hobbit, Bard,” the Master said, “For if it weren’t for him you would not be leaving a free man this day.”

“Thank you,” Bard said, “and what is your name? I shall commit it to memory.”

“Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo said.

“Bard. If you ever have need of aid I will be happy to help you, Bilbo Baggins.”

“You owe me nothing, Bard,” Bilbo said. 

*

“What were you thinking,” Dwalin growled as the entire Company barged into his room after dinner that evening. The feasting had gone on long, too long in Bilbo’s opinion, and it was late. He had decided to wear the elvish garb to sleep as it was almost as comfortable as his nightclothes back in Bag End. 

“I was thinking that that mountain of yours has stood empty for a long time and if, by some miracle we manage to get it back for you, you’re going to need all the friends you can get,” Bilbo said grumpily, “And the Master likely won’t stay in charge here forever. Look out the windows. At least some of you have been involved with ruling a kingdom in some way and you know that when the people are as oppressed and miserable as the people here are something will spark a change. Signs point to Bard being the leader of that change and thanks to me you now have both him and the Master in your good graces. Now, get out of my room. I’m hoping to get one last night of sleep before facing a dragon.”

There was mumbling between he hobbits. 

“Bilbo, lad,” Balin said.

“Yes, Balin?”

“Where did you learn to handle others like that?”

“I blame the Sackwille-Bagginses,” Bilbo grunted, “Always coming over and trying to knick my silverware. Hobbits have large families, it’s only natural that you’re not going to get along with everyone, but they’re still family. One must be polite.”

Balin laughed. “You would make a good diplomat, lad,” Balin said.

“It’s too bad he’s not going to stay in Erebor,” Ori piped up, “Then he could be the diplomat to the elves.” A few of the hobbits laughed, Bilbo included.

“Let’s let Bilbo get some sleep now,” Bilbo heard Bofur say, “We’ve got a big day tomorrow - and Bilbo most of all.” 

They all said their good nights and if he had not known better Bilbo would have sworn he had heard Thorin’s gruff voice say ‘Good night, Burgular’. But Thorin was not talking to him, he must have been imagining things.


	11. Lesson Eleven: Hair Care is Different Between Cultures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone (including Bilbo) learns a lesson in cross-culture differences.

Since Thorin was insisting they head out at first light Bilbo made sure to wake in plenty of time in order to give him time to cut his hair. He had never been a particularly vain hobbit, but it would not do to have his hair a complete atrocity. If he had been thinking clearly he would have had the elves do it in the Mirkwood, but as it was he had been rather… distracted during their stay there. No, he would simply have to do it himself.

After changing back into his road clothes he left his room and went in search of something sharp to trim his curls with. The massive home of the Master seemed to be deserted at such early an hour and Bilbo was pleased to find it so. The only downside, however, was that it meant he was sneaking around the Masters home with no idea where he should be looking to find something to cut his hair. 

A hand, without conscious thought, went to the pocket where the ring he had found in the goblin caves still sat. He had not touched it since, but its familiar weight had become a comfort the same way his hobbit sized sword had before he had given it to the king. 

“Master Hobbit,” a voice said, “What are you doing up so early?” 

He whirled around an was faced with an older woman smiling at him though she looked confused at his presence. 

“We were under the impression that you and your kin were going to be taking full advantage of every moment of sleep before heading back out to the road today.”

“My kin are still asleep,” Bilbo said sheepishly, “I’ve always been a rather early riser. And, additionally, I was hoping to find something to give my hair a trim. It’s getting a tad long and I lost most of my things from home along the way.”

“Oh, I can find that for you,” the woman said, “Just one moment.” True to her word she came back within a few moments holding a blade that looked to be freshly sharpened.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, “I’m just going to go have a smoke and get this done. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up after myself.” Before the woman could say a word Bilbo had hustled towards the closest door. He had no idea if it would lead outside, but was gratified to find that it did so. 

He emerged onto what seemed to be one of the few patches of greenery he had seen in Laketown. It still overlooked the water though and Bilbo himself could see that it was a very foggy and grey morning. He took a seat on a much too large bench and pulled out his pipe and what was left of the Old Toby that Gandalf had procured for him. 

Within moments he was sitting and blowing smoke rings. An old habit and one he often indulged when he was nervous. Despite how flippantly he had been acting in regards to Smaug he really was incredibly nervous about facing the dragon. If all went well he would be able to slip on his ring and get in and out without the dragon even knowing he was there, but things had certainly not been going smoothly as of late. 

No, it was much more likely that he would slip on the ring and still get incinerated and then eaten by a dragon. After allowing his thoughts to run this grim path for a while he finally put down his pipe and picked up the blade the woman had given him. He did not exactly have a mirror and the fog meant the reflection of himself in the lake’s surface was hard to see, but he supposed it would have to do. Bilbo grabbed a handful of hair in his hand and raised the blade with a critical eye.

“What are you doing,” the voice of Nori cried. Bilbo yelped, startled, and dropped the blade. It landed just on the cliff edge, balancing precariously until Bilbo snapped it back up into his hand. 

“What does it look like I’m doing Master Nori,” Bilbo said his chest rising and falling rapidly as he regained his composure, “I’m trimming my hair. I’m not going to be able to burgle anything if I’ve got all this hair in my face.” 

Bilbo heard the stomping of feet and suddenly it was not just Nori standing and staring at him looking horrified, but the entire Company except for Thorin. 

“Bilbo is going to cut his hair,” Nori announced, sounding like Bilbo had announced his intention to murder hobbitlings or some such terrible offence.

There were murmurings amongst the group, Bilbo hearing gasps. 

“Why,” Ori asked, his eyes wide.

“Because it’s getting long,” Bilbo answered, quite exasperated. 

“Jus’ put the blade down, lad,” Dwalin said, his voice calm as he approached Bilbo as one would a skittish animal, “There’s no need ta be so rash.”

“I’m not being rash,”Bilbo said, but put down the blade anyway, “I just would rather like to be able to see something once I’m in the mountain. Don’t dwarves cut their hair?”

“Not unless one has brought great shame upon themselves or their kin,” Gloin explained and suddenly Bilbo understood. But, as much as he understood that it was a cultural difference, he also knew that his hair was currently much too long for a respectable hobbit. Granted, running off on an adventure like he had was also not the action of a respectable hobbit, but he needed to be able to see.

“Why don’t you just braid it, Bilbo,” Ori suggested, “That’s how we keep it out of our eyes.” There were more murmurings amongst the crowd, this time congratulating Ori on his idea. Bilbo was exasperated, but he tried his best not to show it to the hopeful looking hobbits.

“Hobbit hair doesn’t exactly lend itself to braids,” Bilbo explained, “Even most of the hobbit lasses keep it fairly short though the odd hobbit is willing to fight with their curls to braid it. Besides, I don’t know how to braid hair. It’s not like I’ve ever had a chance to learn. No, it must go.”

“Nooo,” Kíli yelled, “I’ll braid it for you.”

“Lad,” Balin said, looking horrified, “That is utterly inappropriate.”

“Well, if Uncle would get his head out of his arse I wouldn’t have to,” Kíli announced, “but despite Uncle being an idiot I still consider Mr. Boggins family.”

“Kíli,” Bilbo said patiently, “I appreciate the offer, but if it’s inappropriate…” 

“Braiding is usually only done by close family members,” Fíli filled in for Bilbo, “Or your One of course.”

Bilbo did not have a chance to say anything before Kíli had sat down behind him. 

“Just relax Mr. Boggins,” Kíli said though Bilbo could tell the prince was nervous, “I do Fee’s braids all the time. I’m sure I can handle this.”

“It’s fine, Kíli,” Bilbo said, “You don’t have to. I can take care of it myself.”

“What is going on here,” a new voice roared, the voice of Thorin Oakenshield. It seemed, since they had left Mirkwood, that the only times Thorin had spoken to him was to yell at him.

All of the hobbits began speaking at once making it so that no one voice could be understood. Even though Bilbo knew what was going on he could not understand what the others were saying. Bilbo looked to Kíli who was white as a sheet and looked as if he were going to be sick. 

Bilbo began yelling, trying to get the attention of the others, but to no avail. The voices of the others simply drowned his single voice out. 

“Quiet!”

Bilbo was unsurprised that it was Thorin who made everyone fall silent. Even as a hobbit the king just had a presence that simply could not be ignored.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, “Now, what is going on here is-“

“Bilbo was going to cut his hair off,” Kíli spoke up and Bilbo heard Thorin gasp, “but he shouldn’t have to do that so Ori suggested he braid it, but he doesn’t know how so I offered to braid it for him.” Kíli had stood up and no longer looked like he was going to be sick, but simply like he was angry. Bilbo, for his part felt helpless as Kíli yelled at his uncle. 

“Honestly, Kíli,” Bilbo said when he found his voice again, “I’ve told you that cutting hair doesn’t mean anything for hobbits like it does for dwarves so it’s not a case of whether I should have to do anything, but whether I want to be able to see. This is just patently ridiculous.”

Kíli crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his uncle before turning back to Bilbo and ignoring the others. 

“Now, let’s get that hair braided Mr. Boggins,” Kíli said and Bilbo suddenly felt hands that were not his own in his curls. Even though Bilbo trusted the prince he suddenly felt vulnerable having strange hands so close to his neck. It made no sense, he scolded himself as he remembered all the times he had allowed other hobbits to give him a trim back in the Shire. He forced himself to relax his shoulders and closed his eyes to let Kíli do as he liked.

“The only one who will be braiding the Burglar’s hair is me,” Bilbo heard Thorin’s voice rumble closer to him than he had expected. Bilbo jumped in surprise. 

“I’m not sure you still have that right, Uncle,” Bilbo heard Kíli growl at the older hobbit, “He may be your One, but you’ve hurt him.” Bilbo felt his face heat with a blush.

“Kíli,” Bilbo said, but the others either did not hear him or were ignoring him. 

“I know I did,” Thorin said, “and you’re quite right that I don’t deserve to call him my One, let alone gift him with braids-“

“Hey, don’t you think I should be the one who makes that call,” Bilbo snapped, finally annoyed enough to make them listen to him. “Listen, Kíli, I appreciate that you’re just trying to protect me, but I can make my own decisions in these matters,” Bilbo said, “Offering to braid my hair was very kind of you, especially considering it seemed to make you uncomfortable, but now Thorin’s offering. Or, well, insisting which I suppose is as close to offering as your uncle gets. And I love him Kíli, and I want to let him. No offence to you, but if this is to be my last day alive I would like to go in there to face that dragon having settled my affairs in order.”

“C’mon Kee,” Bilbo heard Fíli say, “Let’s leave these two alone.”

And suddenly, for the first time since Mirkwood, Bilbo was left alone with Thorin Oakenshield. Despite his brave words before his heart was hammering in his chest. 

“Thorin-”

“Bilbo-“

The two of them spoke at once and they both chuckled a little as Bilbo motioned for Thorin to continue.

“Bilbo, I owe you an apology,” Thorin said, “I am not good with my words the way others are, but…” Thorin paused and Bilbo was surprised to see him retrieve something that was scribbled on from his pocket. Thorin took a deep breath and stared intensely at the words in front of him. “Bilbo,” he began, clearly reading, “Since our last night in Mirkwood I have neglected to treat you with the care my One deserves. I can only hope that you never doubted my feelings towards you because you are my One, Bilbo Baggins. I know it is obvious that I have never been fond of elves and watching you ignore me to speak to the tree shagger hurt me and then seeing you wearing their clothes hurt even more. I am aware that my behavior has been horrid, many of my Company have made it clear, though not in as many words as my nephew just has. I will endeavor not to feel jealous of the elves moving forward, especially after you trusted me with the story of your mother. You are the most courageous and strong being I have ever met and I only hope you will forgive me.”

“Thorin, you stubborn fool,” Bilbo whispered, touched by the king’s words, “I love you and only you. I certainly do not love the elves the way I love you. I never thought I’d find love. I thought I’d die, old and grey and alone in my hobbit hole. And then you waltzed in and changed my life. Not only will I likely not die of old age anymore, but I will die knowing I was loved. I only wish we had more time.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, “You will die of old age, but I hope you will not choose to die alone. And I hope you will not die in your hobbit hole. I would have you by my side as my Consort when we reclaim the mountain.”

“Thorin-“

“Would you allow me to put braids in your hair Bilbo Baggins, my One?”

“Of course.”

The two of them sat there and Bilbo felt the king’s hands in his hair. Bilbo was beginning to think that Thorin did have some concept of patience as he was gentle and patient with the braiding itself. In fact, he was much more patient than Bilbo probably would have been as his curls kept slipping from Thorin’s fingers forcing the king to restart. It was already past first light when Thorin was finished. Bilbo had been fretting and reminding the king that they should have left by now, but Thorin insisted that this was more important. 

“There,” Thorin grunted, “What do you think?”

Thorin had somehow procured a mirror and Bilbo looked at himself. If he had not known who he was he likely would not have recognized himself though. Thorin had put a number of braids in his hair which all looked very complicated, but also served the practical nature of keeping his hair out of his face.

“It’s beautiful, Thorin,” Bilbo gasped.

“They’re braids of intention, courting braids mostly,” Thorin said, “Except these three.” Thorin pointed at three braids that were side by side.

“What are those ones for?”

“This one denotes your bravery, this one is a braid of protection, and this last one is a braid for good luck,” Thorin explained.

“I can’t do this for you,” Bilbo said, eyes wide, “I can’t do any braids at all. I don’t know how. Hobbits don’t.”

Thorin pressed their foreheads together in what Bilbo knew was a dwarven sign of affection. “I do not expect you to reciprocate now,” he said, “and perhaps, once we retake the mountain I can teach you how to braid.” Bilbo noticed that Thorin spoke in ‘when’ instead of ‘if’, refusing to accept the fact that Bilbo could very well fail in his burglary. 

“I would like that.”

“Then you will stay in Erebor?”

“I will stay as long as you’ll have me, but first we must actually leave for the mountain.” Bilbo stood and offered a hand to Thorin. “Happy Durin’s Day, Thorin,” he murmured. 

“Happy Durin’s Day, my One.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters in two days. I'm on a roll. This story is, sadly, almost at its end. I've said it before, but it's true this time. I've almost finished writing the next chapter and there's only one more after that. Thanks for continuing to stick with this strange story of mine.


	12. Lesson Twelve: Hobbits Can be Just as Stubborn as Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hobbits reach the mountain, but not without difficulty.

When Bilbo and Thorin stepped foot back into the Master’s house the entire Company was waiting for them. Bilbo blushed at the thought that any of them (or all of them) might have heard their private words to each other, but Thorin’s hand in his gave him something else to concentrate on. And, whether they had heard the words or not the braids in his hair made the nature of their relationship very clear. 

“Looking good, Mr. Boggins, or should I say Uncle Bilbo,” Kíli said with a cheeky wink. 

“Well now, um,” Bilbo said, blushing if possible more hotly, “There’s no need for that Kíli. But there is definitely need for us to get going. Um, yes, so yes.” Bilbo stammered, more embarrassed than he had ever thought to feel. 

“I thought you said hobbit hair didn’t braid,” Dwalin said and Bilbo swore he saw a smirk on the warriors face.

“I said it was difficult, Master Dwalin,” Bilbo said stubbornly refusing to look directly at the warrior, “not impossible, but simply too difficult to be worth the effort.”

“It was certainly worth the effort, my One,” Thorin growled. 

Bilbo wondered if Thorin would ever stop calling him that. At the same time he was unsure of whether he wanted Thorin to stop calling him that or not, it did cause the most delightful feeling in his chest. 

“Yes, well,” Bilbo said, “We must be going. Durin’s Day. Dragons and all that.”

“He’s right,” Bofur pointed out, “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not spend an entire year here.”

“I doubt we’d be welcome for an entire year anyway,” Kíli said.

“The elves might let us stay with them,” Bilbo said coyly and he had never seen the members of the Company move so quickly. The entire group was out the door within minutes. 

The people of Laketown stared as they left the Masters house. To be fair, they had been stared at when they arrived in Laketown as well. Bilbo knew it was just because the people of Laketown had never seen hobbits, but it was still a rather unsettling feeling. 

Thorin had refused to let go of Bilbo’s hand and so Bilbo found himself at the head of the group leading the way. The Company was silent, only adding to the eerie feeling of being watched by the people of Laketown, but once they had exited the town and were out of earshot of anyone else the steady hum of the rest of the members of the Company talking took its familiar place. 

“We should stop for food,” Bilbo heard Kíli call from where the princes were walking behind him and Thorin, “We didn’t get to have First Breakfast, let alone Second. Aren’t you hungry, Uncle Bilbo?”

Bilbo was rather hungry in fact, but he had grown accustomed to hunger on this journey and they were already behind schedule and he said as much.

“Uncle Thorin,” Kíli complained, “Uncle Bilbo’s hungry. Shouldn’t we stop?”

“Do you want to stop and eat, my One,” Thorin asked him. Bilbo shook his head.

“I imagine I would only be sick,” Bilbo admitted. The positive fluttery feeling he had from being so close to Thorin was warring with the flutters of nerves in his stomach as they marched ever closer to the mountain and its dragon. 

“We keep moving,” Thorin declared, “We need to make it to the mountain while there is still light.”

*

By the time they reached the foot of the mountain Bilbo was regretting his earlier decision to skip meals. While the nerves grew ever stronger, the hunger did as well. He was still unsure of whether or not he would simply be sick if he ate, but he was wishing he had taken Kíli and Thorin up on the offer. But now, now that they were so close to the mountain he could not think of asking to stop to eat. He could feel the excitement thrumming through every one of his hobbit companions and knew that if he asked to stop now he would simply be viewed as a burden once more.

The group stood for a moment looking up at the mountain. Bilbo climbed it with his eyes, it just seemed to go on forever. His vision swam a little bit and the mountain swayed in his vision, for a moment he even thought there were two of them. 

“Erebor,” Thorin said lowly, his voice almost with a tone of awe, as if he had not actually expected to see it again. But then, Bilbo thought, the king perhaps had not expected to see it again when he had been driven from the safety of its walls so many years ago. The others followed his suit, murmuring the name. Bilbo stood silent, the mountain swimming in his vision, only Thorin’s continued grasp on his hand keeping him steady. He had now missed First Breakfast, Second Breakfast, Elevenses, and Luncheon. Even before the dwarves had become hobbits he had eaten more, but this close to their goal he could not think of asking the dwarves, hobbits, whatever they were, to stop. 

The Company began climbing the mountain and Bilbo felt sick with every step he took. The ground beneath his feet wobbled in his vision and he found himself stumbling with every step.

“Are you alright, my One,” Thorin asked quietly.

“Just nervous I suppose,” Bilbo lied.

“Alright, next chance we get I need to eat,” Fíli insisted this time, “I love Erebor and all, but something’s gotta give. I’m pretty sure my stomach is eating itself.”

“I’d like to get a picture done of the mountain,” Ori piped up, “For the records and all.” 

There was grumbling from the rest of the Company as well and Bilbo was appreciative of it. He thought to chime in as well, but he was feeling rather light headed and thought it best to keep his mouth shut.

It was, however, longer than Bilbo would have liked until they even saw an outcropping on the mountain, let alone one that would be large enough even for the group of hobbits. By the time they had, Bilbo was sweating profusely and had slipped his hand from out of Thorins as he fell behind. 

“Yes, time for food,” Kíli said as he accelerated up the mountain to the outcropping Gloin had pointed out.

“Bilbo,” he heard Bofur’s horrified voice say, “Are you alright? You’re looking rather pale.”

The mountain swam in his vision once more and he reached out his arms wildly as he felt his knees give out. 

“Dwalin,” Bofur yelled, “Grab him.”

In slow motion Bilbo saw the bald hobbit turn and Bilbo had the nastiest feeling the warrior would fail to be fast enough and Bilbo would fall down the mountain to his death before even meeting the dragon. 

As luck would have it he found himself not falling down the mountain side, but held in the strong arms of the hobbit warrior.

“Why didn’ yeh tell someone,” Dwalin growled at him as he carried Bilbo up to the outcropping where the others were waiting, Bofur walking beside them. “Yeh had to have known yeh weren’ feelin’ well.”

“We’re so close,” Bilbo muttered, “I didn’t want to bother you. I just need some food in me and I’ll be right as rain.” Dwalin growled, but said nothing instead choosing to deposit Bilbo gently onto the ground. 

“My One,” Thorin said, panic lacing his voice, “What’s wrong?”

“I just need to eat, Thorin,” Bilbo said firmly, “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Food,” Thorin demanded, “Someone get me some food.”

Fortunately they still had rations from the elves and Bilbo found himself - much to his embarrassment - being hand fed by Thorin. 

“Why didn’t you say something,” Thorin asked, echoing Dwalin’s question from earlier.

Bilbo practically hunched in on himself. “Well I really didn’t think I could eat earlier, when Kíli asked,” Bilbo explained, “and then we were so close to the mountain and you were all so excited that I didn’t want to be a burden. And then Fíli said something so I didn’t have to and I really thought I could make it.”

“My One,” Thorin said gently, “You are never a burden. I regret ever saying such things about you. I do not ever want you to think you must keep quiet about what you need in order to please me, do you understand my One?”

Bilbo nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said, “You should be thinking about other things. I can feed myself. You should eat.” Thorin looked like he did not much want to, but retrieved food for himself regardless. Though Bilbo noted he still spent more of his time staring at Bilbo than eating. 

“I’m not going to float away,” Bilbo said, “You have more important things to think about right now than me.”

“You know,” Thorin said conversationally. “I’m starting to think hobbits can be just as stubborn as dwarves.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Bilbo joked. 

Soon they were ready to keep moving. 

“You alright, Bilbo,” Bofur asked, clearly concerned.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo worked to reassure him, “Just needed some food in my belly.”

Bilbo found the trekking up the mountain to be much easier this time. His vision was no longer swimming and he was no longer stumbling along behind. In fact, it seemed like no time at all before Thorin announced that they were where they were supposed to be to find the hidden door. 

And so they looked. And looked. And looked. There was no door to be seen. The hobbits searched every nook and cranny, but no one found even the smallest indication of a door. 

“I don’t see anything,” Ori concluded.

“Nor I,” Dori admitted.

“Well it is a hidden door,” Kíli pointed out, but he too seemed disheartened at the lack of success they were having. The sun was beginning to go down and Bilbo could sense the disappointment in the air. 

“I’ve looked everywhere,” Nori admitted, “Used every trick I know to find hidden passages, but there’s nothing.”

“We must have been too late,” Gloin said, sadness tinging his voice.

Thorin seemed not to be sad, but angry. “The tree shagger lied. He never wanted us to reclaim our home.” Thorin threw the key down and led the rest of the Company away. 

“Dinner, perhaps,” Bombur suggested. 

“Come on Bilbo,” Bofur said.

“I’ll be right there,” Bilbo said, “I just - give me a moment.”

After coming all this way Bilbo could not bear for it to end like this. It seemed impossible that they could come all the way across Middle Earth, only to have their dreams dashed. The sun had set while Bilbo moped - and he could freely admit that he was moping now. 

He could not believe that Lord Elrond had lied to them. Maybe the map itself had lied? 

Bilbo sighed. It seemed pointless to keep sitting here, on a rather uncomfortable rock when he could be with the others eating dinner. He did not imagine they were a rather cheerful bunch at the moment, but surely it would be better than sitting her alone. 

He looked up at the mountain one last time and thought he saw a glimmer of something out of the corner of his eye. He looked back and gasped. Glowing on the mountainside was a large shape, clearly a door. He had found it.

“The last light,” he murmured to himself, “The last light. Moonlight, of course! I’ve found it!”

“My One,” Thorin’s gravely voice said, “I applaud your stubbornness, but-“

“Thorin, Thorin,” Bilbo cried bounding over to the hobbit and kissing him squarely on the lips, “The door. There it is.” He said as soon as his lips left the kings. “The map said the last light of Durin’s Day and it meant moonlight!”

Thorin gasped and called for the others. Pulling Bilbo into his arms and spinning him around in glee. 

“What is it, Thorin,” Balin questioned, but instead of answering Thorin simply pointed at the glowing outline. 

Bilbo, a tad bit dizzily, picked the key up from the ground where Thorin had thrown it in anger. 

“You should do it, your majesty,” Bilbo said handing him the key, “You should be the one.”

Thorin took the key and pushed it into the door. They all heard the click of the lock and Thorin grunted with the effort involved push open the door. It did not budge.

“I hadn’t considered that,” Balin said, “These doors are rather heavy for hobbits.”

“Fíli, Kíli,” Bilbo insisted, “Go help him. The future rulers should be the ones to do it.”

But even with the three of them the door would not budge. 

“Everyone,” Thorin commanded, “We’ll do it together.”

Bilbo found himself squished between Dwalin and Kíli as the group of hobbits all pushed with all their might. A terrible scraping of stone on stone filled his ears and little by little the door moved until finally it stood wide open.

“We did it,” Ori said quietly, “We’re here.” He was the first one to speak.

“Well, it’s your turn now,” Dwalin said clapping Bilbo on the shoulder. Bilbo took a deep breath. As much as he had wanted this for his friends now that it was actually happening he was terrified. 

“Right,” Bilbo said.

On the wall there was an engraving. In the middle was depicted a stone, clearly a very important stone.

“Well, what’s that,” Bilbo questioned before the rest of the hobbits retreated. 

“That, Bilbo,” Balin said, “Is what you are here to retrieve for us.”

“The Arkenstone,” Thorin said, his voice awed once more.

“Find it and bring it back here,” Balin instructed, “Don’t worry, you’ll know it when you see it, lad. And if the dragon is still there. Well, do not waken it.”

Easy for him to say Bilbo thought to himself. 

“Good luck,” the rest of the Company wished him and Bilbo was alone in the dark passageway. There was nothing for it he knew, he had a job to do (or die trying).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, there's only one more chapter after this one. When I started this the intention was for a one-shot and here we are 12 chapters later. The last chapter will probably be up this weekend.


	13. Lesson Thirteen: Hobbits are Incredible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company is finally home.

“Thorin,” Dwalin snapped, “Would yeh stop that?”

“Stop what,” Thorin growled right back.

“The pacing, Uncle,” Kíli said, “You’ve been pacing in circles since Bilbo went in there.”

“He’s been in there a long time,” Thorin snapped, glancing at the still open hidden door in the mountain the way he had been doing every couple of minutes since his One had disappeared.

“It’s a big mountain,” Balin reminded him gently, “And the Arkenstone, for all its brilliance, is only one small item amongst a million in there. He has not been in there an extraordinarily long time all considered.” Thorin only partially heard him as he was too busy staring at the door and willing his One to appear in it. 

“If yer that bloody worried why don’ yeh go in after him,” Dwalin said and Thorin could practically hear the clench of his friends teeth. 

“You heard the Wizard,” Thorin reminded the warrior, “Bilbo had to be the one.”

“Actually, he just said it couldn’t be a dwarf,” Ori piped up, “At the time we were all dwarves so it did need to be Bilbo, but since we’re hobbits now it really could have been any one of us.” Thorin whipped his head around to look at the Scribe of his Company so fast it likely should have hurt.

The Scribe was correct. Not that that was surprising. Ori may not have been the strongest of the dwarves, but he had proven to be one of the smartest.

“You’re brilliant Ori,” Thorin cried, “I never should have let him go in there. It should have been me.”

“Or me,” Fíli piped up, “I could have gone too. And then Bilbo wouldn’t have had to.”

“I could’ve gone,” Nori said, “I have more thieving experience than our hobbit.”

“I’m going in after him,” Thorin declared, “the rest of you stay out here.”

Before anyone could say a word Thorin had darted in through the open door and disappeared down the passageway. 

Thorin could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he ran as quietly as possible after his One. He did not know if Smaug was still down there, but if he was Thorin certainly did not want to wake him. 

He had always thought that when he had stepped foot in Erebor once more he would be paying attention to everything, flooded with memories, but with every step he took all he could think about was Bilbo’s name. His love, his One. The two of them living side by side with a warm bed to share at night. 

He skidded to a halt behind a broken pillar when he realized he could hear Bilbo’s voice even if he could not see the hobbit. But he was not alone. He was speaking to another being, a being that could only be Smaug. He could not make out the conversation, but he could hear the treasure moving around. A quick glance around the pillar did not allow him to see his One, but it gave him a clear view of the dragon surrounded by a sea of gold. 

The gold glinted, shimmered in his vision, but he was more concerned about Bilbo. As sneaky as his One might be, it was clear that the dragon had found him. And Thorin was helpless. Running out there would only upset Smaug further and the both of them would likely be toasted alive. 

Thorin crept closer, but was careful to stay hidden. Secretive glances here and there made it clear that Smaug was completely unconcerned with anything in his direction however and so he began to move more quickly. He was on the precipice of where the gold was laid out as a sea, hidden behind yet another crumbling stone pillar. He could finally see Bilbo, but he could only make out words here and there of what he was saying. 

And then he saw it. The Arkenstone. It was similar to how he remembered it, but it seemed less impressive somehow than he remembered. But, he supposed, things from ones childhood could do that with time away.

As soon as he had seen it it disappeared within the treasure hoard again. But he did not care about the Arkenstone. He just cared about having his One back in his arms. Bilbo Baggins, the fussy little hobbit from the Shire had stolen his heart without him even noticing. Hobbits, at least his hobbit, was an incredible little thing. 

“Hmm, now that is a familiar smell,” the voice that had to belong to Smaug said, “Dwarf.” 

“There are no dwarves here,” Thorin heard Bilbo say, “I told you, I came alone.”

“Is that so,” the voice said, “Then who is this.” 

Thorin heard the smash of the pillar behind him and threw his hands up to protect his head from the debris. 

“Thorin,” he heard Bilbo gasp. And suddenly Thorin realized that where there had been short curls there was now longer hair. 

“Run,” he yelled at Bilbo. 

He reached a hand out for his One and pulled the smaller hobbit up to the ledge where he stood. The two of them ran. Smaug let out fire. Thorin could feel nothing but the heat, see nothing but the fire, but he ran. Smaug was following them, destroying the insides of the mountain as he pursued the two. 

“What are we going to do,” he heard Bilbo yell, “Even if we get out of here he’s going to destroy the mountain.”

“Concentrate on getting out of here first, my One.”

Thorin led Bilbo down corridors he remembered from his youth. Despite what he had told Bilbo he was not leading them out in a straightforward way. Instead, he led the dragon on a chase through the bowels of the mountain in hopes of tiring the dragon. 

*

“I can’t run anymore, Thorin,” Bilbo gasped, “Go without me.” 

The two of them had been running for what seemed to be an eternity. Smaug had been getting more and more angry with them. 

“Never, my One,” Thorin gasped, “We can rest here for a bit.”

Here was a very obscure part of Erebor, very low down in the mountain. Thorin did not want to say it was a dead end, but in some ways it was. Although, it was also an area Smaug would likely not be able to get to. Likely. 

“What is your plan here,” Bilbo said, “I trust you. I’ve always trusted you, but I’d like to have an idea of the plan if possible.”

“Not sure I have much of one,” Thorin admitted, “Just trying to piss the dragon off.”

“Right, got it,” Bilbo said, though Thorin was not exactly sure what it was that Bilbo got. Bilbo darted out of the room before Thorin could even get to his feet. 

“Bilbo,” he called after his One, but the hobbit has disappeared. Thorin found himself cursing as he realized he was not nearly as agile as he had been as a hobbit. He had not realized just how much faster Bilbo was when he had been leading his hobbit, but Bilbo was out of sight and he had no idea where his One had disappeared to. 

He wandered, lost through the halls until he re-emerged in the main caverns amongst the sea of gold.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said brightly, rushing to embrace him.

“Bilbo,” he said roughly, “Where?”

“Oh, he’s long gone,” Bilbo said, “Hobbits can be very sharp with their words as well as diplomatic. You said you were trying to piss him off, to drive him off I presume. He won’t be coming back.”

Thorin looked in awe of his One. 

“Well, shall we go find the others?”

Thorin wordlessly followed his One. He had no clue what the hobbit had said to the dragon, but there was clearly no dragon there. 

“Thorin! Bilbo!” 

The rest of the Company was rushing towards them.

“The dragon, he just left,” Kíli said with a whoop.

“He yelled something about hobbits,” Ori piped up, “and the Shire. Are the hobbits going to be okay?”

“Thorin,” Bilbo asked looking more nervous than the king had ever seen him.

“Yes, my One?” 

“When you offered to let me stay here, in Erebor, you did mean it, right?”

“Of course,” Thorin rumbled, “You are my One. I have given you braids of intention. Part of that intention is to live the rest of our lives together.”

“Well, I won’t exactly be able to return to Bag End,” Bilbo said slowly, “as it’ll be inhabited by a dragon. I can’t imagine the rest of the Shire will be too happy, but he’s promised not to hurt anyone. And I did give him share of the gold so hopefully there won’t be any problems. And he’s got to be better than the Sackville-Bagginses.”

“You gave up your home,” Thorin whispered, horrified. 

“Well, more like traded it for yours,” Bilbo said, “I said I’d help you reclaim your home if I could, did I not? And a hobbit always keeps his promise.”

“Hobbits are incredible,” Fíli gasped.

“That they are, laddie, that they are,” Balin said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this crazy story. I hope you enjoyed the peculiar end to a peculiar tale. My personal headcannon (if you can be said to have headcannon about your own story) is that the hobbits of the Shire figured something very strange indeed had happened to Bilbo Baggins when he had gone gallivanting off on an adventure and referred to Smaug as Mad Baggins for a very long time.


End file.
